


Red Doll

by Strudelmugel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Character Death, Multi, Murder Mystery, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 88,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Strudelmugel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a cold night in 1878, Swedish immigrant Berwald Oxenstjärna - armed with a bag of his possessions and his dead sister's son - upon first arriving in London, saves the life of young beggar Tino Väinämöinen. </p><p>Ten years later, the two are partners in a successful small business, running a toy shop with their family. But when people start turning up horrifically murdered, people who've worked their way up in life, like Tino and Berwald, the pair find themselves in a race against time to find the killer before they or someone they love become the next victims.</p><p>And Berwald is determined to do anything for the man he has devoted his life to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there. This fic is now over six years old now so I thought it was time for a serious rewrite because as much as I love this fic’s plot and all the little twists and turns, the writing is dogshit. So the plan is to rewrite it for FF and AO3 and maybe even put it on Wattpad too.
> 
> Okay so the main pairing is SuFin with side pairings of DenNor, OzNZ, AusHun, GerIta and hints of LadKug and SeaWy. This is a murder mystery, so warnings for blood, violence, a bit of death, and general vile Victorian life.

To even the most amateur detective, the scene set out was not subtle in the slightest.

There would be no need for fancy forensics to work out what happened here, when a lonesome scream would pierce the early morning air and let the city know they would soon be reading another sensationalist piece of news. Yet more gossip. There would be no clues to aid the police either. Another cold case, if it would even warrant thorough investigation.

Maybe it would.

The shopkeeper was dead. Killed. Murdered, even. He lay lifeless in a pool of his own blood, the red streams creeping slowly, surely, across the cobblestone like serpents. Long, liquid fingers trickled in the gaps between flat stone until they found the gutter and disappeared down the drain, each drip drop heard through the silence of the city.

The origin of the blood was the jagged rip in his chest where his own knife had carved him open. Flesh viciously torn. Oozing blood.

The man’s face was pale, still warm and fresh, eyes wide open but unseeing as his murderer stood over him with a stony expression. Trembling hands wiped blood from the kitchen knife, though he was still covered in the stuff himself. Luckily, bloodstains tended not to show up on black material such as his knee-length cloak. It hid the red on his shirt well, and would certainly aid in his escape.

With that thought in mind, the murderer began to slowly, shakily, walk away. His work was done.

He needn’t rush, the killer decided. Hardly anyone was out and about at this time in the morning, when even the smallest signs of the sun were still hours away from revealing themselves. And besides, who could possibly know he did it? There was no evidence he could see, and if anyone was out and about, they would most likely be alone. How could they hope to stand up against him?

He hadn’t meant to do it, though.

It was an accident! He knew he had a temper, but it had never been this bad before. The shopkeeper had made a passing comment… then there was a blur and, the next thing he knew, the man was dead.

He was terrified of himself, and how much he wanted to do it again. Would anyone notice if he did it again?

Ah, the city of London: so large and cold that no one would care a man had been murdered except that it made a good story. Something to work up silly fear in the most excitable, something to speculate for the more thoughtful.

“That should teach you,” he muttered to the lifeless body as he left, laughing nervously; “piece of scum, trying to rise out of your place.”

He got no reply except for the slow drip drop of blood.


	2. Regular morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lars - Ladonia

As Tino Väinämöinen stirred under his woolly blanket, lilac eyes opened and blinked blearily to block out the endless stream of sunlight pouring in through the window. He gave a blind smile as it warmed his face; sunlight could be rare here, due to the clouds. Hulking, colourless monsters mixed with smoke often gave the impression that the city was permanently covered by a grey ceiling.

But today, for once, there was light and heat to welcome him to the land of the living, probably the last for the year, given that it was October.

Tino stretched and sat up in bed, propping himself up with one arm and looking around his tiny room. Like the rest of the house, it had wooden floorboards and walls of faded white plaster. He had a few pieces of furniture: a desk, a wardrobe and a bookshelf, all carefully hand-built by his business partner and best friend Berwald Oxenstjärna.

They had known each other for roughly ten years now, owning a cosy little shop where they made toys. It had been Berwald's dream, something he’d wanted since he was a small boy. Tino now created and drew up designs for the toys, which Berwald would then build, and Tino would again paint. Even if he didn’t love the job, he didn’t have anything else to do or anywhere else to go. So here they were!

It had taken time, naturally, to grow from two young men and a baby, selling wooden dolls and boats from a wheelbarrow in the market and winding streets to two respectable members of the community, and successful businessmen.

Tino smiled at the thought of how far they’d come, and ran a hand through his fine, at times wispy, hair, which was always messy in the mornings. it plastered itself to the side of his face, other strands reaching waving arms for the ceiling.

This was the life they’d built for themselves. If he was being completely honest, he still couldn't quite believe it.

He guessed it was time to get up and get on with things, so he hauled himself out of bed and changed into his regular work clothes. Shirt, trousers, waistcoat: nice and smart for the customers. He then went downstairs for breakfast.

It was all rather routine by now. Comfortable. Safe, even.

Tino and Berwald lived in a three-storey house, which sounded impressive to anyone who’d never seen it, and didn’t know that one of the floors was taken up by their shop. And, not to mention, weren’t aware of how narrow and rickety it really was. Still, Tino couldn’t complain. He’d certainly rested his head in worse places and in fact counted himself as one of the privileged few in a city where a large chunk of the population lived in slums, out on the street or in a dreaded workhouse.

Even the thought…

The top floor was made up of bedrooms, three in total; the second floor contained a general room and a little kitchen; whilst the ground floor comprised, as said, of their shop and a tiny workroom at the back of the house. There was also a garden barely big enough to lie down flat in, with an outhouse, washing line and the dog: Hanna.

Tino trod wearily down the wooden stairs, not quite awake, and padded into the kitchen where his ‘family’ were already eating their breakfast. Berwald was slouched in a wooden chair, cup of (very expensive, but oh so necessary) coffee in one hand, and a (considerably cheaper) newspaper in the other. Berwald’s nephew and ward Lars sat on a similar chair, munching away at a slice of bread and cheese whilst their apprentice, Peter, packed his schoolbag.

Peter wasn’t exactly their apprentice, in the traditional sense; it was just a title the gave him – to make him feel important and explain away the act of taking in a complete stranger. He did work at the shop though, after school and during weekends in return for food and a place to stay whilst his brother was away at sea. He was practically a second ward – and both boys were practically Tino and Berwald’s own sons – and the three had known him for years now. They loved him as much as they loved Lars, and, when Peter turned thirteen next year, he would be leaving school to work with them, full time.

Lars was ten and still had a few more years of penny-a-day lessons at the local board school.

Berwald grunted a greeting and looked at his pocket watch, or ‘kettle and tackle’, as Tino had heard some of those wacky young people call them.

“Did I wake up late again?” he asked, smiling sheepishly as he grabbed a plate and started cutting a few slices of bread and cheese for himself.

“Jus’ a little,” replied Berwald; “not too bad t’day.” He placed the watch back into his waistcoat pocket, the brass chain hanging down lazily, like a small swing.

“Better for ya to get as much sleep as possible,” he added, “so yer not tired all day.”

Tino nodded. “Yes, I suppose Thursdays can be quite busy too,” he said, “I need to keep on my toes.” Berwald raised his chin slightly in reply and continued reading his paper. Tino shoved a cheese sandwich into his mouth and nodded at Peter and Lars.

“H’rry orp y’has shchoole shoon!” he exclaimed through his mouthful of breakfast. The two boys giggled at his voice.

“Oh papa Tino,” exclaimed Peter, “you sound worse than papa Berwald when you talk with food in your mouth.” He and Lars began to drag themselves out of the kitchen, carrying a pair of heavy school bags and Tino swallowed quickly, scowling at them.

“What is this? Insolence, I hear? Just go to school!” he snapped, mock-sulking, then he turned around in his chair. “And you know I am not your real papa?”

“Are you our mama then?” asked Lars innocently.

The boys bolted for the door, screaming with laughter as Tino jumped from his chair to chase them, adult laughing just as much as the children. They all ran downstairs into the shop and stopped by the front door, breathless. Tino took a key from his pocket and opened it for them.

“Humph,” he said to Peter and Lars, ruffling their hair, “I suppose you may refer to us as your papas, if that is what you boys want. We are your guardians, after all.” His smile fell. “Just… please refrain from calling us such in public, understand?” Talk like that could get people arrested, after all.

The two boys hugged their ‘papa’ and opened the door.

“Oh,” Tino called after them, “do you have your pencils?”

“Yes papa.”

“Your pens and ink?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Your wax tablets?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Money for lessons?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Goodbye kisses?”

“Papa!”

Tino just laughed as he bid them farewell, and the two boys were cast into the hectic outside world. As they made their way to school, Peter and Lars found their street already busy and bustling with people selling various items or rushing to work, the road filled with carriages, motorcars and bicycles, carts and brave souls crossing their road. Everything stank and the noise surrounded them like a mob.

Peter glanced over at the little boy next to him.

“So, Lars?”

“What?”

“If Tino and Berwald are our stand-in parents, would that make us brothers?”

“I would assume so.” Peter’s face broke into a grin at that, whilst Lars’ scowl deepened.

“Really?” Peter exclaimed. “Wow, I always wanted a little brother.”

“Hey, I am not the little one! I was Berwald and Tino’s ward for longer!”

“But God put me on this earth before you.”

“Humph,” Lars grumbled and glared at the ground. Peter slung an arm around his ‘brother’ and hugged him.

“Come on, little brother of mine,” he said teasingly, pinching the child’s cheek, “we do not want to be late for school!”

“Do not call me that! And get off my face!”

…

Tino shook his head and smiled at the boys’ retreating backs. He turned around to see Berwald, standing at the foot of the stairs with another cup of dark liquid.

“Damned children never show any respect,” Tino said jokingly. Berwald nodded and handed him the mug.

“Yer coffee.”

Tino smiled gratefully.

“Jus’ read in th’newspaper some fella got kilt last night,” Berwald told him. Tino blinked in surprise, then shrugged.

“Happens all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Mm, but this one got m’rdered really viciously,” Berwald added, “there was a picture.” He went a little green at that.

Tino frowned. “Oh, well I hope it was a one-off; we really could do without another serial killer around here, not with that Whitechapel bastard murdering street workers. Who was killed? Another one?”

Berwald shook his head.

“Sh’emaker. Little well ‘ff, apparently. Bit like us. Poor background, worked his way up, fair play t’ him.”

“Would not call myself envious, regardless,” Tino thought for a moment, then shook his head; “still, life goes on. Sometimes a little too fast for my liking. Come on, Ber, we have a shop to run!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First proper chapter! Has the actual characters and everything.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, the man in Whitechapel Tino mentioned, is of course, Jack the Ripper.


	3. Charlotte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte - Wy
> 
> William - New Zealand
> 
> Jemima - fem!Australia
> 
> Oscar - Hutt River

Lars leaned against the shop wall, rough wood scratching through his thin clothes, and tapped his foot impatiently. Peter was pacing back and fourth across the pavement as best he could in the bustle.

Charlotte was late again.

Charlotte, the baker’s daughter, was a good friend of theirs, and, apparently, Peter’s girlfriend. The trio all went to the same school, though Charlotte – being a girl – was taught in a different set of classes to the brothers. Nevertheless, they’d known each other for years now and were practically neighbours. Just a few buildings down from each other, the children were always in and out of each other’s houses, coming and going as they pleased, knowing they’d always be safe and welcome.

Peter was always saying he was going to marry her. They could run both their parents’ businesses when they were older, along with Lars, of course. No problem! Charlotte had an older brother, but he had long left home to make his own fortune, and had never shown even the slightest interest in running such a small business. Peter had been sad to see the back of him; Oscar made the best bread.

Lars’ frown grew slightly deeper.

“Look, Peter,” he began, “I really doubt she’s coming today.” Probably sick or, more likely, needed at home. Bakeries were always busy in the mornings. “We have to go or we ourselves will be late!” He, for one, didn’t want to get a beating.

But Peter just shook his head.

“A few more minutes?” he said, “please?”

Lars’ face softened. Peter was the absolute worst when it came to Charlotte, and even the cranky ten-year-old had to admit it was sweet. Disgusting, but sweet. Like a cake Charlotte would keep in her pocket to eat at lunch.

“Alright,” he sighed, “a few more minutes then.” Maybe he would one day grow to like the cane.

Peter smiles and leaned against the wall next to him. “You know,” he began, “I’ve always wanted a little brother.”

“Not still on about that, are you?”

Peter nodded. “Never did like being the youngest, with all them brothers and sisters. They used to tease me, you know? I guess that was what older siblings are meant to do.”

Lars nodded wearily.

“They used to tease Arthur too, I guess,” Peter continued, “but that made him tease me more. Then mama died and who wants to look after a little boy? I remember, after the funeral, they all decided to pack their bags and go their separate ways, to make their own lives.” He frowned. “I ent seen 'em since. Well, Arthur writes.” And occasionally visited when on shore leave. But they others? To be fair, last he’d heard, some of them had gone to live in America.

“Guess being in a place that reminded them of mama was too hard,” he reasoned. Lars had heard this many times before, but he listened all the same, out of politeness.

“I ent about to treat you like a baby,” Peter spoke again, “or pick on you. I know how that feels. Not nice. Besides, you and me? We are practically the same age!” Lars couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, “and I promise not to be a bratty little brother.”

“Bit late for that!” Peter grinned and hugged his younger brother.

A bell tinkled and Charlotte came hurrying out the door, her dress dotted with flecks of flour and her hair slightly frizzy.

“Sorry chaps,” she said breathlessly, trying to fix her curls under a plain white bonnet, “busy morning!”

“We understand, Lottie,” Peter assured her.

“Yeah,” added Lars, rolling his eyes and starting to walk down the street, “not like we will get beaten if we are late again.”

Charlotte scowled. “I said I was sorry!”

Peter just took her hand, breaking into a jog to catch up with Lars. The three of them burst into a full run, dodging street traders and pedestrians filling the footpath.

“Worry nowt, Lottie,” panted Peter, “next year I will be working, and then I can save up to marry you! No more worrying about being late for school when we are adults with jobs, right?” Charlotte laughed along, as always.

A pang of jealousy stabbed Lars through the heart. Peter and Charlotte had a pure, innocent relationship. It was honest, not full of grown up romance or passion, just puppy love and kid’s marriage proposals. Peter would do anything for Lottie, it seemed, just to make sure she was happy.

And maybe Lars wanted that too.


	4. Important customers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elise - Liechtenstein
> 
> Franz - Kugelmugel

Tino wrapped a little wooden boat in brown paper, handing it to the waiting customer with a smile. He placed a handful of coins in a clunk, oversized till before waving goodbye.

It was mid-morning, and a few members of the upper classes were beginning to stroll in to do their shopping; well, the ones who hadn’t sent their servants down to do it at the crack of dawn were, as per the norm. Tino noticed there was – at last – no queue at the till, so decided to put on his friendliest smile and see if anyone needed assistance.

Glancing about the shop floor, he spied a duo – boy and girl – standing at a shelf and frowning ever so slightly.

“Can I help you today sir? Madam?” he asked.

The older one, the boy, wheeled round to stare him up and down with the most serious expression. “Err, yes,” he replied curtly, “my sister can’t decide on a playing; what would you recommend?”

“Well,” began Tino, turning to the little girl, “is there anything you have your eye on?”

The girl nodded. “Yes, sir. I cannot decide between this doll,” she indicated to a little china girl in a red dress, sitting with her sisters on a shelf, “or a nutcracker,” the girl then pointed to a little bearded man.

“May I ask what your name is, Miss?” enquired Tino.

“Elise Biedermann, sir.”

“Well, Elise,” said Tino, “why not get both?”

“I said she could only get one,” her brother told him quickly, “don’t want to spoil them now.”

“Ah, I see,” the friendly smile didn’t leave his face, though it was tempting, “well, personally, I would pick the doll.” Tino leaned in closer; “between you and me, I just say that because they are the only things I make from scratch here. Pretty proud of the little beauties.”

Elise carefully lifted the doll from the shelf and stroked its hair. This particular girl was blonde with a rich red dress and bonnet. Red bead-like lips smiled up at them all.

“She is pretty,” Elise mused. Her brother nodded.

“Pride is a sin, but, nevertheless, nice work, Mr..?”

“Tino, call me Tino.”

"I love the material you used for the dress, Mr Tino," the man added.

“Thank you, Mr..?”

“Zwingli, Vash Zwingli.”

“Well thank you, Mr Vash. I bought that velvet recently to make all my new dolls’ dresses and I’m glad the risk is paying off. I loved the texture and colour and gosh I am glad they are selling well!” It had been a little out of his budget, but he’d not been able to resist the soft, rich velvet. He’d had to have it!

“Very nice,” agreed Vash, albeit a little less enthusiastically, “well, I suppose you have made up your mind then, Elise?” Elise nodded. “Good. We will take the doll then.”

“Excellent!”

Tino stretched his aching muscles and cracked his creaking bones, stifling a yawn. Berwald was sat upright in the chair next to him picking a splinter from his palm, just as worn out but not showing it as clearly. Tino knew though.

It was their – painfully short – lunch break now and Tino wearily ate from the plate of bread next to him, working up the energy to take Hanna for her walk.

“Hey, Berwald?” he began.

“Hm?”

“Do you think we need extra help running the place? I mean, I know it would cost to pay someone wages but… I doubt we can manage like this for much longer. And I would hate for Peter to think he should give up his education to help. Then again, if we hire someone he might feel guilty anyway and try to skip school to help us.” His bit his lip as he realised he’d rambled for too long. Again. “What do you think?”

Berwald actually had a think before speaking.

“True,” he mumbled, “ya look pretty tired. We… we should consider it.”

“Thanks, Ber,” Tino hauled himself up and walked towards the back of the room. “Just going to take Hanna for her walk now!”

Berwald stood up awkwardly.

“I can do ‘t,” he said, “need ta stretch m’legs anyways.” Tino threw him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, erm, take all the time you need.”

Berwald nodded and left the room.

He walked through the back door into the garden, accessed by their workroom.

The workroom itself was tiny and crowded, with just enough space for his sturdy workbench, and a table for Tino to do his painting and drawing. Half-made toys, toy parts, pots of paint, rolls of fabric, nails, tools and blocks of wood sat neatly on shelves along the walls. It was where their pair spent many an evening together, up until long after the boys had gone to bed. In colder weather, sometimes they took their work upstairs to sit by the fire. There were no windows, besides a tiny pane of glass on their door.

Berwald walked through that door into a garden paved over completely. A waist-high brick wall separated it from the neighbours’ gardens and an alley down the back, access by a wooden gate. In one corner was a minute, white, and incredibly fluffy dog, a rope tied loosely around her neck to stop her running off.

Hanna barked happily at the sight of her owner, growing more excited as he untied the other end of the rope to use as a lead, and opened the gate. Hanna, who had been preoccupied with running circles around him, dashed excitedly past when she saw the opening.

Together, dog and owner navigated the alley, avoiding rubbish whilst nosily peering into other people’s gardens. Well, Berwald was, anyway. Hanna had to make do with sniffing all she could reach.

…

Lunch was over all too soon in Tino’s opinion and he begrudgingly unlocked the front door, flipping the little card sign around to it read ‘open’, and let people back in. A few were already queueing impatiently. Tino inwardly groaned.

“Thank you for shopping with us; please come again soon,” Tino rattled off to a customer as he handed them a wrapped parcel. The little man wiped his forehead with an arm and signed. There were a few hours to go before closing time, but hey, at least Lars and Peter would be home soon to help out!

The door opened for what felt like the millionth time and a small family of three entered.

At first glance, anyone could immediately tell they were wealthy; the father was dressed in a fine suit and top hat, and carried himself in a dignified manner, almost looking down on everyone around him. His chocolate hair was neat and combed into a side parting, and stern violet eyes were framed by round glassed. His wife also had brown hair, a softer, lighter shade that flowed down her back, held out of her face by an ornate flower. Her elegant, moss-green dress was so detailed it hurt Tino’s eyes to look at too closely. The child – judging by the clothes a boy – wore an expensive school uniform and a beret. What was unusual about the little boy was the pair of long, silver braids running down to his thighs, neatly brushed and frequently washed.

Tino recognised them at once: famed Austrian composer Roderich Edelstein and his family. The composer was currently scanning the shop, lips pulled into the ghost of a sneer. But what were such distinguished people doing here of all places?

Tino put on his friendliest face and trotted over to greet them, discretely wiping away any dust and grime on his clothes. He didn’t exactly want to give the Edelsteins an extra reason to judge him.

“Good afternoon sirs, madam,” he chirped, “how may I help you today?”

“I am looking for some items for young Franz here,” explained Roderich, thankfully civil; “he recently passed an exam at school, so Érzsebét and I decided to treat him.” Something in his voice told Tino it might have been largely Érzsebét’s idea.

“How lovely,” he said, “and congratulations, young sir!” Franz smiled and nodded.

“He happens to be a little meek around strangers,” Roderich informed Tino; “say hello to the nice man, Franz.” But Franz wasn’t listening; he’d already seen a toy he wanted.

The doll smiled sweetly at him from a shelf. Coffee brown hair fell in tight ringlets, framing a chubby, porcelain face. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips painted a deep red. Bottomless blue eyes gazed at him through black lashes. Anna, for that was what he’d already decided to call her, wore a rich red dress with fluffy white trimming, giving her a Christmassy atmosphere. She had a matching shawl and shiny black shoes as well, with white stockings and tiny shoelaces. She was a petite work of art!

Franz, still ignoring his father, carefully lifted the doll off her place on the shelf and cradled her in his arms like she were a real baby. He turned back to the three adults, a large grin plastered across his face.

“Can I have her? Please?” he asked, holding Anna up and barely containing his excitement.

“A doll?” asked Roderich, somewhat puzzled. Érzsebét clapped her hands happily.

“Of course you can, sweetie!” she cried, “what a beautiful doll.”

“But Érzsebét…”

“No ‘buts’, Roddy,” said Érzsebét sternly, and Mr Edelstein flushed at the nickname, “he can play with whatever he wants.” Her husband sighed, outnumbered and defeated.

“Fine,” he muttered, “you can have the doll, of course.”

“Oh thank you, mother! Thank you, father!” cried Franz, hugging both his parents carefully so as not to disturb Anna. The four made their way towards the till as Franz scanned the shop for anything else he might fancy.

“The doll is one of my own creations…” And Tino was off doing his ‘I made the dolls look how pretty they are’ speech to Roderich and Érzsebét whilst Franz lagged behind, cradling his precious Anna.

As he began to sing her a lullaby, Lars and Peter arrived home from school.


	5. Chapter 5

Lars looked at the child in front of him. She had lovely silver hair that would fall to her waist, if it had not been tied up, and her eyes had a violet hue as they stared lovingly at the doll in her arms. He was a little confused as to why she was wearing a boy's school uniform though. Was she actually a boy? No, of course not; boys don't carry china dolls around with them.

He thought of his earlier aspiration and wondered if she would consider being his girlfriend, despite having no idea who he was. She looked richer than him, but hopefully that wouldn't matter to her. He hoped she would find him to be cute, no, not cute, handsome, yes that's it! That'll show Peter!

Lars walked over to the girl and tapped her shoulder. She turned and looked at him with a blank expression.

"Hello," said Lars nervously, "so, err, what's a pretty girl like you doing wearing boys' clothes?" Lars mentally slapped himself, why did he ask that? Well, he really wanted to know, but why say that first?

The girl now looked pretty angry and offended. How wonderful. Good going, Lars.

"I am not a girl!" he exclaimed, "I am a boy! Can't you see? A boy!"

"Oh," Lars looked away, embarrassed, "sorry."

Roderich huffed, folded his arms and glared at Tino.

"Sorry about my son," Tino said nervously, scratching the back of his head and trying to laugh it off, which just ended up making the situation worse.

"That imprudent urchin is _yours_?" asked Roderich, astounded, eyebrows raised in a judging manner.

"Yes he is! Look sir; I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding." Roderich shook his head.

"I'm not buying anything from the father of such a horrid child." Roderich began to walk out of the shop, Érzsebét quietly following. But Franz had heard all this and started to panic. He ran to his father and grabbed onto his suit.

"Please father!" he cried, "I need Anna! Look at her! She's art!" Franz then started to cry: the boy’s ultimate secret weapon against his father. Immediately, Roderich groaned then began massaging his forehead.

"Fine!" he snapped, "you can have it if you stop crying this instant."

Franz's tears dried up. Almost like magic.

"Thank you!" he cried. Roderich took the doll from his hands and looked at it.

"Well, she _is_ very well made," he admitted, then returned to the counter, still glaring at Tino, who couldn't help but cringe a little under his gaze.

As his parents paid for the doll, Franz studied Lars, who was hanging his head in embarrassment.

"Sorry again," he mumbled. Franz smiled a little.

"It is forgotten," he said, "you are hardly the first to mistake me for a little girl, though you are the only one to refer to me as pretty." There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "My name is Franz Gottlieb Edelstein. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Lars Birghir Oxenstjärna," Lars laughed nervously. It was then that Franz noticed the small scar-like dash on the other boy's face.

"Your cheek," he said, pointing, "it has paint on it."

Lars began to wipe is face with the back of his hand, blushing hard. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I had art today at school."

"You do art?" Franz seemed genuinely interested; this boy didn't seem so bad now.

"Yes," explained Lars, "I took it as an extra class, along with woodwork and technical drawing. They are to help me get skills to run this shop when I grow up!" The boy smiled proudly at this.

"Wow," breathed Franz, "how nice to find someone else with an interest in painting and drawing. So you did paintings today? Can I see?" Lars nodded and pulled his sketchbook out of his bag.

"We have been drawing landscapes for the past few weeks. The city pictures were the easiest to draw, but then the teacher brought in photographs of the countryside for us to copy. They don't have any colour so we had to make it up, which was more fun! I probably got it all wrong though; never been to the country! And before that we did still life and the professor brought in some things from his house for us to draw." As he said all this, Lars handed his sketchbook to Franz, who took it carefully and sat on the floor to look through. He would frequently pause to run his fingers over a drawing or painting. He came to a stop at a particularly well drawn watercolour of the newly built Tower Bridge.

"This one is beautiful," he told Lars, not taking his eyes off the page. He eventually looked up at Lars, who was standing awkwardly and blushing from the compliment.

"Can I buy it off you?" asked Franz. Lars blinked.

"I s’pose," he replied, a little bewildered. Franz carefully tore the page from the book and rolled it up. Next he dug into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a pound coin, which he handed to Lars.

The boy's eyes widened instantly; a whole pound coin? For a little painting? Oh of course not!

"Wait here while I get you your change," Lars told the other boy, but Franz shook his head.

"I give you a pound! It is a brilliant painting! Just look at the detail and the lighting and colours! I can almost smell the river!" he exclaimed. Before Lars had a chance to say his thanks, Roderich appeared behind Franz.

"Come on," he said, "time to go; say goodbye to your… friend?"

"Auf wiedersehn, err, that means goodbye in German!" said Franz, waving as he walked out the door, ecstatic, "we have to play together sometime!" he added.

Lars nodded and waved as he left, then ran over to Tino.

"Papa, look!" he cried, "Franz gave me a whole pound for one of my paintings."

"Wow a whole pound?" said Tino. Lars nodded excitedly.

"I'm going to save up for something really special," he told Tino, who smiled warmly. Peter, who'd picked up a broom the moment he arrived home and began sweeping the shop, as was part of his job, grinned at his brother.

"I told you your paintings were extraordinary!" he yelled.

…

Later that night, when Peter and Lars were fast asleep, there came a knock at the front door. Tino looked up from the train he was painstakingly painting in the workroom and glanced at Berwald, who stared back, confused, from his desk.

"Who do you think that is?" asked Tino, "and why so late?"

Berwald shrugged.

"Let's ign're it," was the reply, "probably some hooligans knockin' on doors 'nd running away," but as soon as Berwald said it, a second knock came. The taller man sighed.

"I'll get 't," he said, standing up slowly. Tino nodded and continued to paint.

Berwald walked to the front door and opened it, preparing to glare at whoever was knocking around late at night until they went away, but when he saw who was there, he reeled.

"What the hell're ye doing here?!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mathias- Denmark
> 
> Aleksander- Norway
> 
> Erikur- Iceland

Peter trudged slowly down the stairs into the kitchen; it appeared he was the first up for once. The boy walked into the kitchen to the cupboard to get some bread, nodded at the white-haired boy sitting at the table, searched for a plate and knife and…wait, white haired boy?

Peter whirled round and came face to face with a boy, around eighteen years old, sitting at the [kitchen table](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=6/#) eating a piece of cold meat. The boy, well, man, frowned and stopped eating.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

Peter screamed.

Tino and Berwald had bolted downstairs when their heard their son's yell. They ran into the kitchen to find him trembling, his broom clutched in his hands as a makeshift weapon.

"Papa Tino! Papa Berwald! There's someone in our house! And he's eating our food!" he cried when he saw them. They looked in the direction his shaking hand was pointing in at the young man sitting at their table eating, and apparently undisturbed by the whole thing, and sighed with relief.

"Oh sweetie," sighed Tino, "this is a friend of ours. He and two others will be staying here from now on; they're old friends of Berwald's. This fella here is, well, I guess he'd be your cousin…"

"ERIKUR!"

Another stranger walked in and glared at the young man sitting at the table, Erikur, apparently. The new arrival also had pale blond hair, but with a little more colour than Erikur's, that he wore with a tiny cross clip. This person had deep blue eyes, like Berwald's but not as sharp or intense. He stood next to the table folding his arms and staring at his friend. There was, for some reason, a little black and white bird on his shoulder. Lars walked in behind him, eyeing the bird wearily.

"I keep telling you to look after that bird of yours," the blond started to rant, "but you never listen! And now it's gone and stared this poor kid." He waved his arm in Lars' direction.

"Ah," said Erikur, "sorry about Mr Puffin," he told Lars, then turned back to his companion, "but still Aleks, there was no need to start shouting this early in the morning." Aleks shook his head and sat down. Lars and Peter still didn't feel safe to go near the table.

"B'ys, this is ma childho'd best friend, yer Uncle Aleksander," Berwald told them both, "he's Erikur's 'lder [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=6/#)."

Oh.

"It's nice to meet you Uncle Aleksander," the two children said in union.

"Please," said Aleksander, "call me Uncle Aleks if you prefer."

Peter and Lars nodded and sat down.

"I think we should probably explain why Aleks, Erikur and their other friend are here?" suggested Tino, "we would have told you before but they arrived last night when you were asleep. Oh, where is Mathias anyways?" Tino directed that last question at Aleks.

"Asleep," the man replied, "he's still pretty tired from all the travelling we did yesterday, and he's used to sleeping in late, because of his last job."

"Ah," said Tino, "well unfortunately we have pretty early starts in this business so Mathias will have to get used to waking up and going to sleep early. So Peter, Lars, these men have come to live with us and help run the shop; as I have said, Aleks is Berwald's friend, Erikur is Aleks' little [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=6/#), and Mathias is another friend they met when your father and Aleks studied in Copenhagen when they were younger. Back then he helped his father run a public house and later took over the business. Aleks stayed in Copenhagen and Erikur later joined them, to cut a long story short. However Berwald returned home after his schooling before moving to London with Lars ten years ago, as I'm sure you know."

Peter and Lars remained silent, taking all this information in.

"St'll," added Berwald, "it was quite a sh'ck when ye turned up last night."

…

Berwald glared at the three men standing despairingly outside his house, huddled together, on the puddle-dotted pavement. Rain was slowly pouring down their faces like tears. What the hell were they doing here? Last he'd heard they were in Denmark; though he hadn't heard news of them since he left Sweden.

Mathias' face broke into a large grin and hugged his friend tightly.

"Waldy, my old boy!" he cried, "haven't seen you in, what, twelve years now!"

"What're ya doing here Mathias?"

"Oh," Mathias broke away from the hug, much to Berwald's relief, and frowned, "had to sell the pub," he explained, "no business. So we thought we'd try our luck here! Hey, Berwald old friend, do you think we could stay here a while, I mean, just until we find another job." Mathias looked pleadingly at the grumpy man in front of him.

Berwald stared down at the three miserable faces in front of him. He knew he couldn't ever turn them down, not looking like that. Cold, soaked from rain and travel worn, they needed a place to stay.

"F'ne," he sighed, "but only until you c'n buy your own place."

"Aw thanks," Mathias hugged Berwald once again, much to the other man's distaste, and ran inside, a small light-haired young man following.

"Erikur?" asked Berwald in shock.

"That's me," replied the kid.

"Ye've grown," Berwald pointed out, "ya look s' different!"

"Well I was five the last time you saw me," said Erikur. Berwald turned to the one person left outside.

"Aleks…" he murmured.

"It's been too long, old friend," Aleks' face broke into a rare smile and the two friends embraced.

"Wow," breathed Mathias, looking around at the shop, "you made all of these?" Berwald turned to him and nodded.

"Well, me n' Tino anyways," he added.

"So where is this famous Tino we've heard so much about?" asked Aleks.

"But h'w did you-?"

"Your parents keep us informed of what happens in your life, seeing as you don't."

"Oh," Berwald blushed a little, "s'rry 'bout that; forgot yer address and couldn't write to ask as I didn't have yer address. If I'd have known m' parents had it ah woulda asked them."

"We understand," said Mathias, slapping Berwald on the back playfully, "so where's Tino? Come on now Waldy we've been waiting ten damn years to meet him!"

"He's in the workroom at the back," Berwald told them; "to be h'nest, I'm surprised he didn't come in yet to see who was talking really loudly." He glared at Mathias.

"Oh, sorry," said Mathias sheepishly, "if I'd have known Erikur was going to be so noisy-"

"Hey!"

Berwald ignored them and went to check on Tino. He found his co-worker fast asleep at his desk, snoring peacefully. Poor guy, he really was exhausted from work.

Berwald crouched down next to him and gently shook Tino awake, who opened his eyes sleepily, paper sticking to his face when he lifted his head up.

"We h've guests," he told him. Tino sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Is that so?" he asked, blinking slowly, "who is it?"

"S'me old friends of mine," Berwald told him, "ah think ah mentioned 'em to ya before. Mathias, Aleks and Erikur?"

Tino frowned.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, "I thought you said they lived in Copenhagen."

"Not 'nymore."

"Well I should say hello then…" Tino yawned and stood up. His eyes were heavy and drooping, grey bags under them. It had been years since Berwald had seen him this tired, back when they were living in poverty and working long hours just to survive. This job was supposed to be fun, a luxury, but the work was finally taking it's toll on them. It was then that Berwald had an idea.

"Hey, T'no," he began, "what do ya say ta asking them to work here in the shop?"

Tino thought for a moment; "do you think they would?"

"S're, Mathias had ta sell his business 'nd they're lookin' fer a job. They're staying h're until they can find a place."

"Well let's ask them!" Tino strode happily into the front of the shop to greet the other three.

"Hello," he said politely.

"Hey are you Tino?" asked a tall man with spiky blond hair, grinning at him in a friendly, welcoming manner, and Tino found himself taking an instant like to him, "wow you're shorter than I imagined!"

"You must be Mathias," said Tino, not too pleased at having his height pointed out. And as an introduction too? How rude. Mathias, however, genuinely did not look like a malicious person, so Tino let it slide. This time.

"The one and only!"

"I've heard a lot about you," chuckled Tino.

"All good, I hope."

"…sure." Someone snickered and Mathias burst out laughing.

Tino turned to the man looking at a collection of little wooden boats.

"Aleksander Jensen, right?"

Then man looked over at him.

"That's me," he said.

"And you must be Erikur Jensen," Tino looked at the youngest member of the group, who was admiring the stuffed animals.

"Yup!" he said, "hey did you make these?" he pointed at the animals. Tino shook his head.

"Neither Berwald or I can make those, too many different parts to sew, so we have to buy cuddly toys from other people."

"Hey I know how to sew," said Erikur, "I'll make you a few sometime! That would be far cheaper than buying them ready made."

"Wow thank you," exclaimed Tino, "we would really appreciate that. Actually, that is what I wanted to talk to you all about."

"Oh yeah?" asked Mathias, "go on!"

"Well," began Tino, "Berwald tells me you three need to find some work; well, we happen to be a bit under staffed. Since Lars and Peter spend most days at school, it's usually just Berwald and I working here. And Berwald's not really a people person, plus he needs to make a lot of toys, so the supply meets the demand and all, so he tends to stay in the workroom, which just leaves me out here working on the till and helping customers, plus painting the toys in the evening. I also have to draw the designs for new toys and make the dolls and, to be honest, it's pretty tiring."

"Sure," said Aleks, "we would love to work here."

"You would?"

"Of course!" the man cried, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I have heard a great deal about Berwald's famous toy shop and would love to be a part of it. Besides," he added, "it saves us having to look for a job in some factory or rich person's house."

"Brilliant," said Tino, "so tell me, what can you all do?"

"I'd make a great salesman," cried Mathias, slinging an arm around Tino's shoulders, "I can work the till. I'm a pretty friendly guy, and good with words, so I will be able to convince people to buy more toys! And maybe sometimes I can take a tray of small, cheaper toys and stand in the street to sell them. I'm pretty loud so folk will have a hard time ignoring me."

"Hey that sounds like a good idea!" said Tino, "what about you Aleks? What can you do?"

"Well I'm not good with people, I tend to look a bit blank around strangers, but it's not my fault people talk so much bullocks, huh? Maybe I can clean and generally help you run things."

"That's perfectly fine," said Tino, "and you Erikur?"

"I've already said I'll make teddy bears and maybe other animals," he rolled his eyes, "keep up, old man."

"Rude. But that would be a massive help, thanks," replied Tino, "hey maybe you can make some birds too! That toy puffin peeking out of your bag looks really realistic."

"That's because it's a real puffin," explained Erikur.

"I… beg your pardon?"

Erikur opened the bag on his back and a black and white bird hopped out onto his outstretched arm.

"Tino, meet Mr Puffin," he said, holding the bird up for everyone to see.

"Looks c'te," said Berwald. Everyone jumped slightly at his voice; they hadn't noticed him come in the room.

"Thank you," said Erikur, nodding, "I found him a few years ago as a chick. He was washed up of the beach, barely alive, so I brought him home and nursed him back to health; we've been inseparable ever since."

"We all thought he was fattening it up to eat," added Mathias, "I told Aleks that Christmas dinner was on Erikur that year, but the kid wouldn't let us near it!"

"Interesting," said Tino, "so that settles it! Welcome to the family boys!"

Mathias whooped and pulled everyone into a crushing hug, much to everyone's- except Berwald's- amusement.

"This is going to be fun!" he exclaimed, "the five of us make one excellent team!"

"Seven actually," pointed out Tino, "not forgetting Peter and Lars, our children."

"Seven it is then!"

"What about Mr Puffin?" cried Erikur.

"All right, eight!"

"If we're counting pets, then what about our dog Hanna?"

"Stop ruining the moment with your nitpicking!"

"Things are definitely going to be … interesting from now on," commented Tino.


	7. To show kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yekaterina- Ukraine

Mathias strolled downstairs just before Berwald got up to drag him down, yawning loudly, plopped himself down next to Aleks and began absent-mindedly playing with the little curl of hair sticking out of his friend's head. Aleks glared at the other man, but made no move to stop him. Peter and Lars observed the new arrival as they ate. His blond hair stood up in wild, untamed spikes and his light blue eyes were sharp and mischievous, but friendly, as were the rest of his features. He wore a large nightshirt and trousers, like the rest of them. His bare feet had made light thuds as he walked on the [wooden floor](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=7/#).

"So what's the plan for today?" he asked, looking sleepily in Tino and Berwald's direction.

"Well the same as every day," Tino informed him, "except we need to get some things to make new beds for you."

"Ah," said Mathias, "I see."

"Berwald's going later this morning," added Tino.

"Can I come too?" asked Mathias, "I would like to find out where everything is. Never been to London before and the place is massive!"

"You don't know yer way around ye'?' inquired Berwald. Mathias shook his head.

"Only got here last night," he told them, "and the only thing on our mind then was looking for you, which took quite a while." Berwald nodded.

"Okay," he mumbled, "I'll show ya where the important shops 're and anything 'lse I can think of."

"Cheers Waldy, really appreciate it."

"But ya have to help me carry all the wood 'nd [mattress](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=7/#) stuffin'."

"Of course!"

Berwald finished his coffee and got up.

"'ave ta start early if I'm gonna be shoppin' all day." And he left.

Tino stood up as well.

"I should probably tell you how things work," he told the new employees, "before we open up. So you know what to do and all."

Tino proceeded to inform Erikur, Aleks and Mathias about the day-to-day runnings of the shop: who came in at different times; when lunch break and closing time were; how to greet customers and what to say; and how to [clean](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=7/#) everything. They all nodded quietly as he gave out the information. Even Mathias listened silently, though he kept hopping on each foot, fingers twitching, which showed how impatient he was to start.

Tino then proceeded to open the door and greet the customers already waiting outside. Mathias sprang into action, being friendly and cheerful to the customers and helping them with their problems and inquiries; he was kind to everyone, no matter what class they were or what walk of life they came from. He took money and gave out change tirelessly, entertained children and played with them. He gave out demonstrations of how mechanical toys worked, made puppets move and talk to each other, causing whatever children were watching him to burst into giggles. He went beyond what was expected of a salesman and, in all honestly, Tino was incredibly impressed.

…

At around ten, a small boy in ragged clothes sneaked quietly into the shop, picked up a wooden horse and slipped it into his thin, grey coat. He quickly looked around and started to exit the room, relieved no-one had seen him. Or so he thought.

Tino, Aleks and Erikur all dived for him at the same time (Mathias was too preoccupied in deliberately losing a toy soldier battle with a little boy to notice) and the three only succeeded in head butting each other.

Cursing in several different languages and holding their heads in pain, the trio ran after the child, who'd just slipped out of the door, jumped into the street, and ran straight into a policeman.

The man grabbed the small urchin by his coat and glared at him. Tino, Aleks and Erikur came to a halt in front of the two and stared in shock.

The policeman, a tall, blond, wide shouldered man with a face that never seemed to do anything but frown, snatched the toy horse out of the boy's hands and glared at him.

"Little thief!" he growled, "you're in trouble now. Maybe a time in prison will straighten you out."

The boy paled considerably and began to plead.

"Please sir!" he cried, "I didn't mean to but I was desperate! We are so hungry and I did not want to see my sisters starve; I have to protect them! I'll never do it again just give me a chance!"

"You already had your chance and you blew it when you decided to break the law!" the policeman was screaming now. People were stopping to look but when they saw it was a child being arrested, they moved on. The fewer children on the street stealing the better, they believed; besides, it was no one's business anyway. Tino began to feel bad for the child; he was just trying to help his family. Sure, he had stolen from his shop, but the boy looked fraught with worry and desperation. Tino was willing to [bet](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=7/#) that, under all the woolly clothes, the kid was just skin and bone.

"Maybe we can let him off just this once, officer?" he began to plead in his nicest voice possible. Aleks and Erikur looked at him in mild surprise, but said nothing.

"Absolutely not!" said the officer sternly, "give them an inch and they'll take a mile! This little scumbag will be stealing again before you can say 'garrotter'! He needs to be taught a lesson!" he was holding the child tightly, hand in a steely grip. The child was whimpering in pain quietly, lip quivering and tears streaming down his eyes. Tino briefly considered lunging at the policeman, he was stronger than he looked and could probably take him, but would almost certainly end up being arrested himself. Tino wasn't sure if it was worth going to jail for a stranger, even a child. From what he heard, they were almost as bad as the workhouses. Tino shuddered slightly at that word.

"I tol' him to do it," said Berwald from behind them. His three co-workers yelped and jumped a little; when did he get here?

"I asked him to help me test our new employees' reaction to a case of theft by pretending ta steal somethin'," he began to explain; "they passed!"

The policeman looked like he didn't believe a word and Tino wasn't too surprised. Berwald, however, was undeterred. He tossed a penny to the child, who barely managed to catch it in his numb, chilly hands.

"His reward for doin' what I told him," Berwald told the officer, glaring into his eyes. The other man glared back for a minute or so before looking away, roughly releasing the boy. He would have to be completely insane to pick a fight with someone who looked like Berwald; only Tino knew just how terrible at fighting the man was. He just didn't like being violent unless he absolutely had to.

"Fine," he said, "you're free to go. But be warned, you won't have someone to help you if I catch you thieving again." He handed to wooden horse to Aleks, who was nearest, and started walking away. Tino sighed in relief. The boy lunged at Berwald.

Tino jumped, expecting the child to attack his friend, but instead was greeted by the sight of him hugging the man tightly, sobbing against his leg.

"Thank you sir!" he cried, "I thought for sure he would take me to the bad place and my sisters would never see me again and they would not have enough food and I'm sorry for stealing!" Berwald looked at the child in surprise and leaned down to awkwardly pat the kid's hair.

"It's alright," he said, "yer safe now."

Tino smiled at his friend and looked at the boy, acknowledging his appearance for the first time. The child was no older than seven with ash-blond hair, eyes with a purple hue and a slightly large nose. He wore several layers of old, thin clothes too big for him. Of maybe they were the right size for a child his age but he was so thin? Tino guessed to was a mixture of both.

"My sisters would be so worried if the man had arrested me," the boy continued, "they would have cried for sure!"

"Where are your sisters?" asked Erikur. The boy blinked and looked around.

"They are hiding and waiting for me to come back." He told them, "I think they were over there," he pointed in the direction of a dingy, grimy alley where, sure enough, two girls were peering at them with wide eyes.

"Can I call them?" he asked Berwald, who nodded. The child's face broke into a smile and he waved at the two girls, "Yekaterina! Natalia! It's safe now! I am fine!"

The two sisters began to cautiously make their way over to the group. Tino tried to guess their ages and came to the conclusion that the older one, a nervous blue eyed girl with the same hair colour as her little brother, was no older than eleven and the younger one, who's hair was more of a sandy blonde with slightly purple eyes and a frown on her face, was around five years old. The younger girl toddled over to her brother and gave him a tight hug, still frowning but tears beginning to trickle down her face. The older one pulled her two siblings into a tight hug and the three stood like that for a few minutes.

"Oh Ivan," the older girl said finally, "we thought we would never see you again."

"I'm fine Katya," he replied, then said something quietly in a language that sounded a lot like Russian.

"Thank you for saving my little brother," Yekaterina told Berwald.

"Vanya…" mumbled the youngest child, Natalia.

Berwald nodded and crouched down so he was facing them and handed the toy horse to Yekaterina.

"Ke'p it," he said, "but just don't steal again, pr'mise?" Yekaterina nodded and placed the toy in her pocket.

"Apologies," she said, "it is just that we don't know what else to do. Our parents just died of an illness and we are too young to work; no one will employ us." Berwald thought for a moment, then opened a notebook and began to scribble something down. When he'd finished, he tore the page out and handed it to Yekaterina, who looked at it, confused.

"I want ye to go ta the bakery down the road and give this to someone named William. He's a friendly lookin' guy, curly brown hair- works there- and say Berwald sent ya. If ya c'n't find him, then ask fer Jemima or Charlotte."

"Okay," said Yekaterina, still confused, "but what does the note say? If I may ask, that is. Only I can't read English, none of us can."

"Ah," said Berwald, "w'll it's just to ask if he would mind givin' ya some part-time work or somethin'. His daughter spends most days at school and he needs help baking bread or selling things in trays."

"You think he will employ us?" asked Ivan, wide eyed.

"C'rse!" exclaimed Berwald, "he's a l'vely guy, doesn't like a see children upset. And besides," he added, winking, "the guy owes me a favour."

The three siblings thanked him and made their way to the bakery, after swearing that they would never steal again, Yekaterina had her arm protectively over Ivan's shoulder; Natalia clung onto her brother's coat.

"Impressive," mumbled Aleks as they made their way back home, "usually people are all too happy to see a thieving child arrested. How come you lied to save him? If the copper had found out you'd be in trouble too!"

"Our j'b is to make children happy," explained Berwald, "and no-one th't young should have to go to prison 'ver something trivial."

"Besides," added Tino, "the more people who don't have to live through jail or the workhouse the better. No one deserves to go there!" Tino had to force himself to say the word 'workhouse'. "Then again, if Ivan had gone, he'd at least have something to eat and a bed, but what would happen to his sisters?"

"Well it was very kind of you," said Erikur, "but do you really think this William person will let them stay?"

"S're," said Berwald, "him and his w'fe, they're nice people. Plus they're pretty overworked."

They entered the shop to find Mathias making a toy dragon attack wooden knights to an audience of clapping and cheering children, parents watching happily from the sidelines.

"He's good with children," Berwald commented.

"Well he's had a lot of practice with Erikur," explained Aleks, "practically raised him. Was even considering giving him the public house when he retired. Course that was before…" He waved a hand, sighing. Berwald nodded in understanding.

He strode over to the spiky-haired entertainer and tapped his shoulder.

"Time ta get the beds," he told him. Mathias groaned childishly but stood up.

"Show's over youngsters but do not forget to purchase your own knights and dragon set, hand made by this wonderful gentleman here!" he patted Berwald on the back and they exited the shop.

The street was pretty crowded this time of day, like always, with people rushing about or standing with trays loaded with various goods, a chorus of voices advertising different items sounded all around the two, the red brick houses either side of the street contrasting with the grey, smoggy sky above them.

Mathias stopped to look curiously at a few trays, carts, wheelbarrows and other similar stands before following Berwald onward down the road, manoeuvring his way around all sorts of people in the crowded street, desperately trying to avoid stepping onto the road, where carriages, bicycles and motor cars were a constant source of peril.

Pained cries caught the attention of the two men and they followed the noise to where two boys around twelve years old sat begging on the ground. They looked very similar (twins maybe?) but one had horrendous blisters covering his arms, which were stretched out in front of him. Mathias gasped in shock and looked at Berwald.

"Those poor children," he cried, "we cannot leave them like this!"

Berwald said nothing but instead knelt down and took one of the boy's arms. The kid was too shocked to move.

"Tho'ght so," he said, "vinegar and soap." The boy looked at him, wide-eyed and fearful.

"How did you-?"

"Seen that trick before," he said, reaching into his pocket and bringing out his wallet. He handed a collection of coins to the boy without blisters, who looked at the small pile of metal in his hand, then back at Berwald.

"But why?" He asked quietly; "if you knew they were fake, then why are you-?"

"Ya both look like ya need food badly," the boys looked at their skinny arms and nodded, before the boy with fake blisters leapt up and grabbed his brother's hand.

"Thank you mister!" he cried, dragging his twin down the road, "come on Mathew! Let's buy a pie each! It's been ages since I had one!"

Mathew waved at the two men and followed his brother, a wide grin on both their faces.

"Of course we can have pie Alfred," he told him, "we can have whatever we like, for once."

Mathias looked at Berwald, somewhat impressed.

"That was… really nice of you," he commented, "seriously, I don't know many people who would still give them money after spotting the blisters were fake. People are probably more likely to get the police involved."

"Well the way their b'nes stuck out from their sk'n was scarier than any phony blister," Berwald replied, "but I'm not the only one who woulda helped. There are kind people all over the city." Mathias nodded and the two began to walk. They stopped by at the bakery for an early lunch, pushing the door of the building open and walking into the warm room.

Bread and cakes lined the shelves either side of them and at the end of the room was a wooden counter. Behind the counter stood a friendly man in a white apron, chatting animatedly to the customers. Berwald and Mathias joined the relatively short queue and stood in silence.

"Ya know," said Berwald, breaking the silence after a few minutes, "yer pretty good with children. Well, people in general."

"Yeah, I like talking, especially to children," said Mathias, "they don't judge you as harshly as adults, and don't really care about manners and things, and I like making children happy. I mean, there is so much bad stuff happening in the world and I do not like watching people suffer, especially little kiddies. So I like to help, in any way I can, just to make people's lives better even a little bit. I know I cannot change the world but as long as I have an effect on someone's life then that has to be better than nothing, right?"

"Nice to see someone who feels the same way as Tino and I," said Berwald, "both of us have suffered in our lifetimes and we don't want anyone to feel the same way. That's why we agreed to employ Peter, fer example, his brother was poor and had no job, 'cept fer the sailing thing and we wanted to give little Peter a place to stay so his brother wouldn' worry. And Lars was getting' lonely and didn't have many friends his own age."

Mathias nodded and was about to add more but they both realised they were at the front of the queue now. The two turned to the cheery man serving them and nodded a greeting.

"Hello Berwald!" exclaimed the baker, "and, err, who's your friend? Haven't seen him before."

"William, this is ma old friend Mathias," Berwald explained, "he's annoying as hell but a good guy. Mathias, this is William, the nicest bloke in the world, when he's not being a competitive shit."

William chuckled slightly, "I'm guessing that's why you sent the youngsters here then? Because I am a nice person, not because I'm competitive."

Berwald nodded, "where are they?" he asked.

"Asleep," said William, "Jemima's just tucking them in now. They'll start work tomorrow but at this moment in time they need a good rest and food. Which luckily we have plenty of!" William smiled at his own joke; "so what will it be today?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's another chapter for you!
> 
> Historical thingy- sometimes beggar children would cover their arms in soap and vinegar to make them look blistered and horrendous, so people would take pity on them. This was one of many tricks children would use to gain people's sympathy.
> 
> And I'm sorry to Russia/Belarus/Ukraine/Canada/America fans that I made them poor children, but I'm trying to add people from all different classes to get a more complete picture of Victorian life, so some characters are in poverty whilst others (like the Edelstein family) are really rich. Of course the main characters are upper-working class, which was a class that consisted of merchants, shopkeepers ect. And there is actually little in the history books about those kinds of Victorians, which was pretty hard when it came to research ._.


	8. Peeler's bloody gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Florenza- Nyo North Italy
> 
> Salvatorio- Serborgia

Ludwig sat at a table by himself, sulkily nursing a pint of beer in his hand. He was in a public house, noisy and crowded despite it being around midday. Sure he was meant to be working; as a police officer, he should be walking around the streets stopping crime for hours on end. But what was the point? Everyone helped the criminals anyways! The police force was _that_ hated. Even the criminal-hating rich loathed the police, whose funding came from their taxes. Ludwig had already lost count of the number of time he'd been attacked by the people he'd sworn to protect.

And his uniform was stupid too.

Lost in his own thoughts, Ludwig didn't see a young woman sit next to him until she spoke up.

"Hello there," she spoke in a cheery, thickly accented, voice, "you seem lonely; mind if I join you?"

Ludwig grunted, not looking at her.

"My name is Florenza Vargas; may I ask what yours is?"

"Ludwig," he grunted, not taking his eyes off his pint.

"That is a nice name, Germanic, is it?"

Ludwig grunted a noise that probably meant yes, or ja, as he'd say.

"So are you from that new Germany country?"

Another 'yes' grunt.

"Please talk to me..."

Ludwig sighed and looked up at her. His first thought was of just how beautiful this woman next to him was and how he could easily compare her to some sort of goddess. No, this woman surpassed any mere goddess in beauty. She was tanned with carroty-brown curly hair tied into a ponytail and wide amber eyes. Her curved figure resided in a [red dress](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=8/#) with a low-cut neckline that made him blush, and he quickly looked away.

"Why do you want me to talk to you?"

"Because you are handsome!"

Ludwig couldn't help but blush. Why was she being so forward? Especially to someone of his profession. He wondered if she was just distracting him whilst she robbed him, and his hand instinctively went to his breast pocket, which caused Florenza to scowl, clearly offended. He didn't care.

"Even thought I am some rotten 'blue lobster' who does nothing but waste people's money?"

Florenza cringed a little.

"I don't care; I just want to talk to you. You seemed like you could do with the company."

Ludwig looked away, embarrassed. Maybe she was a 'renter' and hoped he'd be interested in parting with his money in exchange for… other favours.

"Danke," he mumbled.

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"Oh, sorry, it is German for thank you."

"Dan-ka? How cute, say more words," Florenza looked at Ludwig expectantly.

"Uh-um sure, no problem. What would you like me to say?"

"Anything you like!" exclaimed Florenza, smiling widely. Ludwig nodded and thought for a moment.

"Ich heisse Ludwig Beilchmidt. Ich bin Deutch. Ich denke das sie wunderbar sind." Ludwig prayed that she didn't ask for a translation.

Florenza though for a moment before speaking again.

"And what does that mean?" she asked.

Damn. Damndamndamndamndamndamn.

"Oh," he began, wishing he could just run, but he was too terrified to move, "it means 'I am called Ludwig Beilschmidt. I am German. I…'" Ludwig mumbled something incoherent.

"Pardon?"

"I… think that you are wonderful." Ludwig's face was almost completely red at this moment, covered by his large, gloved hands.

Florenza stared for a moment, as if in shock, and then pulled Ludwig into a tight hug.

"You are so sweet to think someone is wonderful just for saying hello. But I guess that means you are pretty lonely, yes?" she looked at Ludwig with concern in her large eyes, which were locked with his light blue ones.

"Well, ja, err, yes," admitted Ludwig, "my older half-brother is staying with me at the moment but he will go back to Germany in a few weeks. I am usually all alone."

"That sounds so sad!" exclaimed Florenza, "Do you not have a fiancé or wife to keep you company?"

"Nein, never had one," confessed the policeman, "just me."

"Is that why you are miserable today?" inquired Florenza. Ludwig shook his head.

"Then what is it?" she asked.

"My job."

"You hate it?"

"Yes, actually," explained Ludwig, "I never used to. But people do not like police. I learnt that the hard way. I came here when I heard about how Mr Peel had set up a police force and wanted to be part of it! But it's not as fun as I thought it would be. The people lie to us, attack us, they even help and warn criminals. Just today some shopkeeper made an excuse for a shoplifter who stole a toy. From the man's own shop! But I was still the bad guy. And my wages are terrible, my uniform is ridiculous and the hours are so long!" Florenza listened to all of this patiently, patting the man's back.

"I never usually complain this much," he told her, "and I am sorry for burdening you with my problems. I usually just get on with things but this work is too much!"

"There, there," cooed Florenza soothingly, "just let it all out. I want to listen to you, and you need to talk about things like this. It is not good to bury your emotions and keep them bottled up. That is why I wear my emotions on my sleeves, as they say."

"You are probably right," sighed Ludwig.

"No, I _am_ right!" said Florenza fiercely.

Ludwig couldn't help but smile at this.

"So what part of Germany are you from?" asked Florenza.

"Well, my mother is from Bavaria and my father is from Prussia, he's a Junker, as is my older brother, Gilbert."

"You mentioned your brother before," commented Florenza, "tell me, what is he like? Do you get along?"

"Sometimes," admitted Ludwig, "he cares for me a lot, but he's quite a bit older than I am and likes to boss me around a bit, but he's very protective too! He is only my half brother though; his mother died when he was little and our father remarried. But we see ourselves as full brothers. But lately I do not see him much. He works as a judge in Prussia, Berlin, to be exact, and we never have time to see each other because our jobs are so long. But now he is here. I wish it was because he misses his little brother, but I fear he is only in London because he knows his ex-fiancé is here."

"His ex-fiancé?"

"Ja, a Hungarian girl whom he was engaged to as an adolescent. But her family moved back to the Austro-Hungarian Empire before they could get married and the whole thing was called off."

"What a tragic love story!" exclaimed Florenza, "how romantic!"

"Ja, I suppose it is, but she married another man and they have a son. I tried to tell him this but he did not believe me. He has gone to visit her today and I fear the state he is going to be in when I get home."

"He will need his little brother to look after him, like he has done for you," Florenza told him.

Ludwig nodded. "Yes, of course," he whispered, then added, louder, "you have brothers?"

Florenza nodded.

"Yes, two." she said, "Lovino and Salvatorio; Lovino is older, Salvatorio younger."

"And what are they like?" asked Ludwig, wanting to know more about this girl.

"Well Lovino is very loud and swears and drinks and is a bastard to strangers, though only men, but he always takes care of me. Salvatorio is our baby brother; he is so cute! We all moved here together from Naples in Italy."

"You are Italian?"

"Si!"

"I thought you had a lovely accent! I just couldn't quite place it." Ludwig confessed.

"That is okay!" Florenza's cheeriness never seemed to be marred, for long at least.

"So what do you do for a living?" asked Ludwig.

"I am an actress!" said Florenza, "and that isn't slang for anything shady. I'm a real actress! I do performances of famous plays in a theatre! Well, a little theatre, but it is a start!"

"Wow that is amazing," said Ludwig, "I wager you are very talented, I wonder if I could see one of your plays?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Florenza, "I am performing Shakespeare tomorrow night at nine." She wrote the address of the venue in his notebook and bade farewell.

Ludwig finished his pint and left the pub in a considerably greater mood than when he entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp here's another chapter. It was gonna be longer but I decided to split it into two!
> 
> Historical thingy- the first police force was set up by this chap called Robert Peel to help tackle the immense crime rate in London without the use of the army. But at first his police force was pretty unpopular. The people of London gave then cruel nicknames, attacked them and even warned criminals of their presence. Come to think of it, they're still pretty unpopular…
> 
> Historical thingy 2- Germany was united in 1971, and Italy in the 1960s. Just wanted to explain some context of the times
> 
> Historical thingy 3- a Junker was a Prussian elite/noble and they pretty-much had all the important jobs and were favoured by the Kaiser.


	9. Look at us now

_*Earlier that morning*_

Gilbert stood nervously in front of the large mansion, hopping from foot to foot slightly, perspiring considerably. He tugged at his stiff collar then sighed. _No point in putting this off_ , he thought to himself, _just get it over with_. He reached up and rang the doorbell sitting smugly to the side of a large, ornate, mahogany door. While he waited for an answer, Gilbert looked around at where he was.

The dwelling was huge, its large bulk dominating his view like the houses around it. Behind him lay a beautiful front garden. The beds were full of multicoloured, albeit dying, for it was October, flowers. The grass was neatly cut and not a single branch in the hedges and trees looked out of place. The house itself was newly built and whoever designed it had paid close attention to detail. From the gothic style [arched windows](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=9/#) to the roof ornaments.

_So she lived here?_

Gilbert couldn't help but smile; at least she had done alight for herself and he was relieved the she had somewhere grand to live. Anything less would not do at all.

His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door and a grim-looking butler led him into the large sitting room. The butler told him the lady of the house would be with him in a minute and left.

Gilbert sat on a comfy [velvet sofa](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=9/#) and looked around. The sitting room was grandly decorated with silk, mahogany and colourful paintings. A grand piano sat in one corner. Detailed vases were dotted about on beautifully carved tables and even the ceiling looked majestic. She had done very well for herself indeed.

"Gilbert? Is that you?"

Gilbert turned to find a pair of large, green eyes staring at him. Eyes he hadn't seen for fifteen years.

"Elizabeta?" he asked, and then broke into a large smile, getting up off the [sofa](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=9/#) to embrace her.

"Gilbert!" she cried, tears of happiness beginning to form as she hugged him back, "it's really you! It's been too long! How are you?" she looked at him intently.

"Oh," said Gilbert, "I've been fine, thank you. I now work as a judge in Berlin. I am currently staying with my little [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=9/#), you remember Ludwig right?"

"Yes!" cried Elizabeta, "he was so tiny last time I saw him!"

"He's not so tiny now," joked Gilbert, "the bastard's taller than me! But he's absolutely lovely. I raised him well."

"Well he did seem like one of those children who would be tall as an adult. Must've been how much he'd eat in a day."

The pair then fell into an easy silence for a few minutes before Gilbert spoke again.

"So how are things with you?" he asked, afraid of the answer. But he had to hear it from her own lips; he wouldn't believe anyone else but her.

"I'm doing fine, thank you. Well, after my family and I moved to Vienna, I was betrothed, again, to a man called Roderich Edelstein. We have a son now."

"I see," Gilbert's face fell; so it was true.

"I never forgot you though," she told him.

"And I you," he replied.

"Mutter? Who is that?"

Both Gilbert and Elizabeta turned to where the third voice came from. Franz stood in the doorway clutching his doll. His hair was down today and he wore his school outfit, a curious expression on his face.

"Ah, Franz," began Elizabeta, "this is your Uncle Gilbert, an old friend of mine. Say hello."

"Hello Uncle Gilbert," said Franz, glaring at Gilbert slightly. Gilbert stared back, uneasy around the child. It was noticeable.

"Well why don't we all sit down and get comfortable?" suggested Elizabeta. They sat on various [sofas](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=9/#), all, which Gilbert noticed, had floral patterns.

Gilbert studied Franz closely, trying not to think of how this boy could have been his son, if their fate had been different. The child appeared to be serious, probably like his father, and more than a little girly. He seemed to be getting a good education, but why the doll? He had light hair, the complete opposite of his parents' brown locks. Or did this husband of hers also have white hair? He had to know.

"He looks like me, a bit," Gilbert pointed out, looking at Elizabeta with a question in his eyes, could he be…?

Elizabeta shook her head ever so slightly.

"He had Roddy's eyes," she told him, "and he's only ten."

"Oh," Gilbert tried to think of a new topic, preferably a less painful one, "hey, he said, remember that time when we went horse riding, and you wore some of my clothes?"

Elizabeta nodded and laughed.

"How can I forget?" she exclaimed, "you would not stop talking about how unladylike I was!"

Gilbert chuckled too.

"Well you were!" he reasoned, "always in boys' garments! A right gender-confused young lady you were. Though I see you turned out more elegant since going to Vienna. I don't think very highly of the place, but it has class."

Elizabeta gave a light chuckle.

"So where is this 'Roddy' then?"

"Out," said Elizabeta simply, "and it's Roderich to you."

"Out where?" asked Gilbert, but Elizabeta shook her head.

Gilbert looked around for a new topic, sensing it was wise not to push any further. His gaze travelled to Franz.

"So why is he playing with a doll?" he asked.

Elizabeta frowned.

"Because he wants too," she told him, "Franz has worked very hard at his studies, so it is only right that he has nice things."

"But it's a doll."

"And?"

"He is a boy!"

"He can play with what he wants!"

"I see he is just as gender-confused as his mother then."

They both heard a small whimper and watched as Franz began to cry. Gilbert paled; he'd said too much and now he'd upset the child. Nevertheless, how the hell did Elizabeta Hedervary of all people raise such a sensitive, spoilt brat? It must be Edelstein's influence.

"I think you need to leave," Elizabeta gazed at him, sad but firm.

"I understand," said Gilbert, standing up, "apologies."

Elizabeta followed him to the door.

"It was nice to see you again after all this time," she said truthfully.

"Can we meet again sometime?" he asked. She looked away.

"We'll see," was all she said.

Before he left, Gilbert turned around and asked, "if you hadn't have moved, do you think we would be together now?"

"Oh Gilbert, why ask a question like that when whatever answer I give will only hurt you!?"

"I see," Gilbert nodded and began walking down the path. He wondered if this stinking city had any decent pubs.

…

Mathias and Berwald were seated at a little wooden table tucking into their sandwiches when a new figure entered the bakery. He walked heavily up to the counter and ordered a cake, not moving to a table but instead he talked to William as he ate.

When they'd finished their lunch, Berwald collected his and Mathias' plates to give to William. He placed them on the counter and overheard what was being said between the baker and the stranger.

"I never understood her," the stranger was ranting, "she was so unladylike and disobedient, but I still loved her, is that so bad?"

William shook his head.

"There's nothing wrong with falling in love, Gilbert." He told the man. Berwald turned his head to get a good look at the stranger.

At once he could tell the man was dunk. At eleven in the morning? He must be really upset. The man, Gilbert, wore rich, elegant clothes, though they were now creased and messy. His hair was as pale as Erikur's, but chopped short, and his eyes were red. Red? Berwald looked closely, yes, they were bright red. Was he albino? Not that that was the most pressing issue now.

"She just acted like a boy but I told her to act like a woman and she didn't," he continued, his voice slurred, "she never listens to me, and I was her _fiancé_! And now her son is the same, acting weird. I wager this bloke she'd married to just lets her do what she wants and never puts her in her place."

At this, William's face became very dark and his fists curled into balls.

"Well if that is what you think of women then it's no wonder she left you! Pig! You disgusting quim!" he spat. Berwald blinked in surprise; since when did William get angry?

Gilbert sat dumbfounded for a moment, then his face curled into a nasty sneer.

"Oh I see," he drawled, "I wager your wife has done he same to you! You let her boss you around and do whatever she likes because you are weak! Isn't that right little baker boy? You probably support those suffragettes too!"

"That is out of order!" cried William, "you just can't stand the fact that this Elizabeta woman chose someone that wasn't you because guess what, the whole world doesn't revolve around you! Now would you kindly vacate the building, I don't want to see you again! It might sour the bread dough."

Gilbert glared and Berwald wondered, through his shock, if he would start a fight. But at that moment, Mathias joined them, intrigued about what was going on, and Gilbert didn't appear to want to take on three men if he _did_ start trouble. So he stormed out instead.

William sighed with relief and turned to his friends.

"Sorry about that," he said, "but I don't like people badmouthing women, especially for being headstrong or speaking out."

"S'okay," said Berwald, "it's just… sh'cking ta see ya get that mad. It's so 'nlike you."

"Yeah," added Mathias, "you seemed like such a laid-back fella."

"I know," William admitted, "but he was really starting to wind me up."

"Yeah, he was out of order," Mathias paused for a second, "still, he was intoxicated, and I of all people would know that stupid things are said by drunks."

"True," agreed William, "so you chaps on your way then?"

Mathias nodded, "have to pick up new bed stuff."

"Well have fun!"

Berwald and Mathias nodded and left, waving to William as they went.

Outside, Mathias whistled a long note.

"Wow that guy has a temper; I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him, ever."

"Well he's a general nice person, and it takes a lot for him ta get mad. But women is a sensitive issue fer him." Berwald looked at Mathias, "pr'mise you won't tell."

"I won't."

"Well, it's his w'fe, Jemima, who runs the business, not William. He just works there. He doesn't care in the slightest but is quite sensitive about it. He believes there's nothin' wrong with Jemima having a career but is aware that others don't have the same view as him. He hates ta see people sayin' things about his wife."

"Ah, that explains a lot," Mathias thought for a moment, "hey do you think women can run a business?"

"Dunno, s'pose so. I mean, Jemima does a good j'b but I don't know much about women."

"Same here," replied Mathias, "so… how 'bout we get these beds then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay historical note concerning women's rights at the time! So the end of the nineteenth century was the start of the suffragettes' movement, which campaigned for women's rights in various countries. Now New Zealand was the first country to give women the right to vote, Australia following soon after, then Sweden, so I have this idea that William, being from New Zealand, would be a bit more liberal about women's rights, along with Jemima and Berwald. Of course, the right to vote wasn't granted until 1893 but as this story's set in 1888, people would have started leaning towards the idea, right?


	10. Penny-farthing

Berwald stormed into the shop and slammed the door behind him, breathing heavily. He dumped the planks of wood and bundles of stuffing on the counter and folded his arms, clearly annoyed.

Tino gave a kind smile, thankful that the shop was already closed, and patted his friend on the back.

"Why'd I take him with me?" Berwald asked tiredly, "course the idiot would get distracted by something and I'd have to carry ev'rythin' on my own."

"What do you mean 'distracted'?" inquired Tino.

His answer came in the form of Mathias trying to fit a large metal structure through the door. At once Tino could tell this feat was a lost cause, the thing was probably taller than Berwald, and even he had to stoop to get in through the door! The gizmo that Mathias had bought consisted of handlebars, a seat, large wheel, small wheel and- oh god he's bought a penny-farthing! Why? Those things were impossible to use! Many a time Tino had watched some out of control fool on a bike wiz past the shop faster than a motorcar. Then again, most things went faster than motorcars thanks to the red flag act.

"Made the m'stake of walking past a bicycle shop with him and he _had_ to buy one," mumbled Berwald, burying his face in his arms.

Aleks and Erikur entered the room at that point, probably after hearing the noise of a full grown man trying to fit a full grown bicycle into a tiny shop, and Aleks walked straight over to his friend, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Mathias, I think you need to leave it outside," he said softly.

Mathias stopped what he was doing and nodded, defeated.

"You're probably right," he sighed, "it's just that I've always wanted one since they were invented and we were just passing…"

"Well good for you," said Aleks, sounding enthusiastic, though it was hard to tell with the expression he was wearing.

"Why would you want one?" demanded Berwald, "you can't steer 'em, or stop 'em. You're just gonna injure yourself!"

"But I'll get better with practice!" argued Mathias, "sure I'll fall off the first few times but I'll learn."

"Ye'll crash that's what ye'll do!"

"I shall do no such thing! I am very athletic and can work this bicycle no problem. Just 'cause you have no sense of balance-"

"Err, Mathias," began Aleks quietly.

"It was a waste of money!"

"Says the guy who buys coffee he can't afford!"

"Least c'ffee's useful!"

"Mathias…"

"Unlike you, ya big Swedish-"

"Mathias!" shouted Aleks. Mathias flinched a little and turned to the shorter man.

"Yes, Aleks ol' buddy ol' pal ol' friend?"

"Your bike's been nicked."

Everyone turned to face the door and, sure enough, the penny-farthing was nowhere to be seen. Mathias cursed and darted out of the door, looked around urgently and, having spotted the bike-thief, sprinted off to the right and out of sight. A few seconds later everyone heard a yelp and Mathias came back into view. He stopped at the [front door](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=10/#), gave a short nod, said, "Gentlemen," as if he hadn't just punched a person off a bike, and began to walk off to the left.

He stopped after a few steps to pull faces in [the window](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=10/#), then placed both hands on the glass and ran his tongue over it to add a final insult. Peter, Lars and even Tino had to cover their mouths to avoid laughing.

"I am NOT [cleaning](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=10/#) that," stated Erikur, raising his eyebrows in disgust, though he was also trying not to giggle.

"Of course not. You have not [cleaned](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=10/#) anything since you got here," retorted Aleks, "seriously; you have done nothing but eat all day!" Erikur rolled his eyes at that.

Mathias then tried to get on the bike.

After a few attempts he stopped and folded his arms. Tino couldn't help but feel like he was watching a silly comedy pantomime at the theatre. Mathias was just that amusing.

Eventually, Aleks wandered out to join him, taking a three-legged stool with him, which he set down on the pavement next to the penny-farthing, and held the bike steady as Mathias climbed onto it using the stool.

When the guy was on the bike, Aleks held onto the seat to steady his friend. They then began to have a discussion, Mathias' face looking slightly worried whilst Aleks seemed to be reassuring him of something, most likely promising the other that he wouldn't let go. Mathias' face then broke into a relieved smile and he faced the front, beginning to push the pedals slowly. Aleks took his hands off the bike seat, much to the cyclist's obvious horror and Mathias began to lose control of the penny-farthing, rolling onto the road, desperately trying to avoid the traffic coming at him from all directions.

"I have t' see this," Berwald said to the group inside, walking out of the [front door](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=10/#), Lars and Peter following excitedly.

"This is going to be good," added Erikur and he too joined Aleks outside. Tino shrugged and followed them.

He walked out of the door just in time to see bike and owner collide with a parked coal truck. Mathias lay on the floor groaning for a few minutes but quickly got up and left when the owner of the truck started screaming and shouting at him. He dusted himself down, picked up the penny-farthing and slowly made his way over to the alley that lead to the back gardens, probably intending to dump the bike in their garden and never touch it again. Aleks sighed and followed him, picking up the stool as he went.

The rest of the group made their way back into the house… and burst out laughing. They were still laughing when Mathias and Aleks returned through the back door. Mathias saw their faces, covered in tears as they hurriedly stuffed hands and handkerchiefs into their mouths to quieten themselves.

"Hey it wasn't funny people!" he snapped. Berwald's face straightened and nodded.

"Yer right," he agreed.

"Thank you."

"It was hilarious!" finished Tino.

"Oh I really need this, don't I?" grumbled Mathias sarcastically. He then began to leave the room.

"Aw come on Matt we were only joking!" called Tino.

"Yeah where're you going?" added Erikur.

"To check out the local pubs!" answered Mathias, "just to see what they are like, and to forget about this. And at least there I won't have to listen to you all taking the piss!"

"Oh come on Mathias; is that necessary?" asked Tino.

"Of course!" and with that, Mathias strode out.

Tino fidgeted with his collar nervously.

"Do you think he will be okay?" he asked no one in particular.

"He will be fine," answered Aleks, "he'll find his way around no problem. And he has been under a lot of stress these past few months so it will do him good to relax and have a few drinks."

'Were things that bad back home?' asked Berwald. Aleks nodded, taking off his bowler hat and running a hand through his hair.

"A few members of staff quit and we suddenly couldn't cope. The three of us could not clean all the rooms by ourselves so they looked neglected which meant people did not want to stay so we had less money to run the place; Mathias got a good price for it, though, enough to pay for a ship to take us here and enough to see us until we got jobs. Of course, now we work here Mathias seems to be spending more, I guess he just wants to feel like he has enough wealth for recreational things, like he did back home." He looked at the front door, sighing almost unheard by the others.

Everyone was silent for a few minutes before Tino spoke again.

"It's time for Hanna to go for her walk; I'll be back in an hour or so." He began to leave but Erikur stopped him.

"May I?" he asked, "I'll take Peter and Lars so we won't get lost. I wouldn't mind having a look around my new neighbourhood, if that's okay."

"Sure, no problem," said Tino, "I have a lot of work to do anyways."

Erikur nodded and he led the two boys outside into the garden. Hanna barked happily when she saw them and Erikur chuckled as he untied her, walking past the now abandoned penny-farthing propped against the wall. He held onto her rope and opened the gate, motioning for Lars and Peter to follow.

"She's a really cute dog," he commented, "and she looks a little like me! Hair-wise, at least…"

"Thank you," said Peter, "we bought her from a street seller a few years ago. He had all sorts of puppies! She was so tiny back then, tinier than she is now!" Lars nodded in agreement.

"So where are you sleeping?" he asked Erikur, "I mean, papa Tino and papa Berwald now share a room, Uncle Aleks and Uncle Mathias have theirs and Peter and I have ours? So where do you sleep? In your brother's room too?"

Emil shook his head vigorously.

"No no, Mathias… err… snores!" he said, "actually, I was wondering if I could stay in your room. I was thinking it would be fun to stay with you brats- err, my little cousins."

Peter cheered with joy.

"Of course you can stay with us!" he cried, "right, Lars?"

"No problem."

"Great," Erikur thought for a moment before speaking again, "hey do you know what would be fun?"

"'What?" Lars and Peter spoke at the same time.

"Well Mathias and Berwald may have bought the things to make beds, but they only have time to make the mattresses today; so how about we put our mattresses on the floor and use some blankets to make a tent and we all sleep in a little den tonight?"

Peter and Lars were ecstatic.

"Oh wow that sounds like the best thing in the world!"

"I get to be in the middle!"

"Of course you do."

"We can tell stories!"

"And smuggle food in with us!"

"And tell jokes!"

"And talk about everything!" the two kids continued talking to themselves before Peter noticed someone staring at them from their own garden and waved furiously.

"Hey, Jemima!" he called, "how are you?"

A woman in her late thirties smiled and waved back, before continuing to put shirts and dresses on a washing line. She wore a dark, simple dress flecked with flour and her brown hair was tied up in a bun out of the way, except for two strands that stuck in the air. She wore a mischievous grin.

"Hello Peter, Lars, and, err, who is your friend?" she said, nodding to the trio and looking questioningly at Erikur, who started to answer but was interrupted by Peter.

"This is Erikur, the greatest cousin in the world!" said Peter.

"Erikur is our father's friend's little brother," added Lars.

"Hey enough of the little," joked Erikur, trying his best to look mature in front of Jemima, "my name's Erikur Jensen, my friends and I are staying at the toy shop down the road."

"Yes I thing I recall my husband mentioning Tino and Berwald had guests."

"Well we're a little more than guests," said Erikur, "more like new employees."

"Oh, I see," Jemima grinned, "William, my husband, also said there was some smiley annoying guy with Berwald this morning; they came in our bakery around lunchtime to get something to eat."

"That would be Mathias, yeah he looks pretty annoying but he's a decent chap," Erikur explained.

"I'm sure he is," Jemima smiled, "hey Berwald sent some children down to our place for a job this morning, were they yours?"

Erikur shook his head.

"No, we only met then this morning and Berwald took pity on them," Erikur decided not to mention they had been caught stealing; this was meant to be their fresh start, after all.

"Well the extra help is still appreciated," said Jemima. Hanna, by now, had decided that her owners had been standing still long enough and started to get a little impatient, starting to yap loudly and run around, almost tripping Peter when she ran between his legs.

"We should be going now," said Erikur, gesturing to Hanna, "it was nice talking to you."

"And you," said Jemima.

Peter and Lars waved and followed Erikur and a somewhat bouncy Hanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So historical note: early bikes, the penny-farthings, appeared in the late Victorian era. They were actually called 'ordinary bicycles' but were nicknamed so due to their different wheel sizes, which resembled a penny and a farthing. How creative. These early bikes were difficult to mount and really wobbly but luckily in the 1880s modern bikes were invented which had wheels of the same size, gears and brakes. It was only then that they became popular.
> 
> Motorcars were invented in 1885 and imported from Germany and France and were insanely expensive, plus they didn't go very fast due to the red flag act, which involved some bloke waving a red flag to walk in front of the car. It was only after 1896 that the red flag act was abolished.


	11. Watching the boats go by

"Hey, Berwald?" asked Tino, looking up at his friend; "do you remember the day we first met?" He was curled up on the wooden floor of the cosy sitting room wrapped in blankets and painstakingly painting designs onto a [rocking horse](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=11/#) Berwald had put together earlier that day. Berwald himself was sitting on an old [sofa](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=11/#) with a mug of warm milk.

The sitting room was quite small, like most of their rooms, and sparsely furnished. Just a sofa, a pair of armchairs and a low table made up the furnishings of the room. There were old, frayed, blankets and rugs dotted about as well, to keep the heat in, and a [stone fireplace](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=11/#) with a roaring fire blazing in front of the two men, burning their faces a little but on the whole a comforting heat.

"'Course I rem'mber," said Berwald. How could he ever forget such an important and significant night? Berwald was certain that he would remember it until the day he died.

"Of course you do," said Tino, humming as he rested his back on the sofa, "silly me."

…

_Ten years ago, 1878_

…

Berwald stepped off the boat and checked on the small bundle in his arms. Lars. His baby boy. Well, his responsibility ever since his sister and her husband has died suddenly. Berwald was still getting used to the thought of being a father; he wasn't sure he could manage, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. He would rather die than let this baby be unhappy for one day of his life. Berwald was determined to be a good father to Lars.

Which was why they were now in London, the workshop capital of the world. Berwald wanted to run a toy shop, in a place full of people, especially rich people who could afford luxuries. He was going to work his way up and become an important salesman whose creations would be loved by children everywhere. That, Berwald decided, was his purpose in life: making children happy. And no child would be as happy as his little Lars. No, Berwald concluded, this precious baby would never be starving or in poverty. He couldn't bear to let his sister down like that.

The man looked around at his new home, so different from his old one in the United Kingdom of Sweden and Norway. It was huge, and crowded. How could so many people live here? It was polluted too, with huge [chimneys](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=11/#) billowing out smoke that mixed with the air around them. Even in the darkness he could see that the Thames River behind him, where his ship was bobbing up and down, was absolutely disgusting. Berwald couldn't help but sigh. Was it really the best decision bringing them here? But he couldn't turn back now, so Berwald decided to try to find somewhere to rest until morning.

It was the middle of the night, and Berwald didn't have a hope of finding somewhere where he could permanently stay from now on. So he decided to, quickly, find a little tavern or hotel to stay in for one night and find a [room to rent](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=11/#) in the morning. He had money, but wanted to be off the streets as soon as possible; there were a lot of criminals about, of course there was, it was a massive city, and Berwald really didn't fancy the idea of being mugged or even killed.

After an hour or so searching, Berwald finally found a little inn near the river, and not a moment too soon. Lars was crying feebly, chubby arms trying to free themselves from their blanket prison, and Berwald was exhausted, the duffel bag in his back weighing down like a boulder and bending his spine.

The building was locked, so Berwald had to knock on the door and wait for someone to answer. Eventually, he could hear angry footsteps and a pair of narrow, bloodshot eyes appeared in a hole in the door.

"Waddya want?" came a gruff voice.

"Erm," Berwald couldn't help feeling a little nervous; this was his first interaction with a Londoner, "I would like a place to stay f'r the night, please?"

The [foreign language](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=11/#) felt weird on his tongue but Berwald was sure he could communicate well enough in it.

"No," snapped the voice, "go away, full."

"Please!" cried Berwald, "I can't find anywh're to stay, and I have a baby who needs shelter." Right on cue, Lars began to cry louder at the sound of Berwald's raised voice.

"The answer is still no. We don't want you foreign chaps coming in here with your noisy spawn."

"I can pay!"

The person behind the door seemed to be considering this for a moment.

"No, we're full, go away! You can sleep under the bridge!" then [the eyes](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=11/#) disappeared from the peep-hole.

Berwald banged on the door again but to no avail. He rested his forehead on the rough wood and sighed. Was this how things were going to be? He just wanted to collapse in the doorway and sleep. Maybe even cry. But he couldn't; his child needed him. Lars was still crying and as Berwald walked away, he began to sing a lullaby to his new son, who calmed down at the deep, soothing voice he had grown used to these past few months.

The tired man then began to look for the bridge that had been mentioned and, sure enough, there was a large stone bridge stretched across the Thames. Berwald sighed and made his way to the bottom of the structure where a few figures were curled up in the mud on the banks under thin blankets of cardboard, their stick-thin limbs curled up around their skeletal bodies to preserve the heat their thin, ragged clothes couldn't hope to keep in. They looked dead, and some of the ones lying motionless probably were. He looked at the scene in horror. How could someone end up like this? And why did nobody care? He shivered then resigned himself to a sleepless night of lying in mud.

The large stones were a bumpy, rough backdrop to the gruesome scene, mud so thick that Berwald couldn't help but wonder how many bodies buried deep he was walking over. To his left, the Thames continued its journey.

At least his thick coat would keep him warm. But it wouldn't go unnoticed by the people here, and neither would his bulging duffle bag, so Berwald doubted he would get to sleep. He knew he was scary enough that he suspected no one would try to rob him when he was awake, but if he fell asleep he would be defenceless. But at least he could rest his legs, and not have to worry about talking to people again until morning. With that thought in mind, Berwald moved forward to choose a spot to sit in.

…

Tino wrapped a sheet of cardboard tighter around him and stared helplessly at his leg. That was a pretty deep cut in his shin and Tino knew it was going to get infected, and he would die. He could die that very night. But he couldn't help but feel slightly relieved; these past few months of misery and freezing hell had hardly been worth living. Since he went out onto the street he'd been near starving, all the time, and Tino was sick of watching his body grow more and more skeletal, of having to beg or even steal to get something to eat.

At least, though, he'd avoided the workhouses. Once you're in one of those you never get out unless you were very, _very_ lucky. And Tino had never been a lucky person. That was why he lay dying under a bridge in the mud, slowly bleeding his life away. He'd heard stories of what happens in those terrible places and decided that he would rather die a free man than a slave in a workhouse. Well now he was about to get his wish! Great, just great…

Tino was interrupted from his thoughts by a deep voice from above him.

"M'y we sit here?"

Tino nodded without looking up, he really didn't care who they were. But as a large figure sat down beside him on his right, Tino couldn't help but feel ever so slightly curious, so he had a little glance at- _oh holy crap the scariest man ever!_ A tall blond fellow, wrapped in a warm coat and scarf, was glaring at him though a pair of wire glasses. Why was he looking so angry at Tino? Did he do something wrong again? Was this man some sort of murderer?

Tino continued to stare transfixed at the man beside him as he took a small bundle from the inside of his coat and began to cradle it, murmuring softly in what sounded a lot like Swedish. Tino leaned over and peered over at the bundle to see a small face in amongst the blankets. It was a baby!

Tino blinked in confusion; surely a murderer wouldn't go around carrying a little tot and actually treat it with care, right? He seemed to gentle for someone of his appearance.

"Cute child," he said, his voice hoarse from thirst, "'is he your son?"

The other man looked at him in mild surprise, then he nodded and looked at the child again with eyes filled with adoration.

"He is now."

Tino couldn't help but let out a little squeak. Was this wacko implying he'd killed a woman and taken her child? So he _was_ sitting next to a killer! Tino was certain he wouldn't survive the night.

Berwald looked in shock at the man sitting next to him, who looked absolutely petrified. He tried to think of what he could have said wrong. It was perfectly innocent! Sure, he knew he had a pretty scary face but what had he said?

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled after a while, "I meant th't I adopted him. He's actually my nephew. Sister died. All he has left…"

"Oh, that makes sense," Tino breathed a sigh of relief, "I'm sorry to hear about your sister though." He meant it. "It's hard losing family. Were you close?"

The man nodded.

"She was ma best friend," he said, "we were twins and she always looked after me. So I want to do the same for her son." He seemed to be holding back tears now.

Tino wasn't too sure how to respond so he decided to move away from the subject.

"So what is his name?" he asked.

"Lars."

"Nice name. Oh, I almost forgot, what is your name too?"

"Berwald."

"I'm Tino," Tino tried to smile but couldn't find the energy. Berwald was now going through his bag, when he found what he was looking for, he pulled out various items, a little bit of food, a warm blanket, some water. Tino's eyes widened at this and hoped Berwald would share; he was cold, starving and hadn't had a drink since yesterday. And that 'drink' was a few handfuls of water he'd scooped into his mouth whilst crouched next to a water pump. But those things were almost certainly for him and his baby; Tino didn't blame him, after all, it was every man for himself out here. He looked down as he felt his eyes prickle with the beginnings of tears. He couldn't help it, and knew it was a silly waste of energy, but he was miserable. And now he'd have to watch others eat delicious, fresh food…

Berwald looked at Tino; he was just like everyone else under this bridge, skeletal, with hollowed cheeks and matchstick limbs. Under a tattered flat cap, his blond hair looked like it was once soft, shiny and golden, but now it fell, greasy and muddy, almost down to his shoulders, with washing and trimming not the biggest priority for the man. The clothes he wore, a thin shirt and trousers, did nothing to protect him from the cold- as did the cardboard he was huddled under- and he had no shoes. His left leg was stretched out at an odd angle, like he was trying to avoid it touching the mud; the poor guy looked too tired to even shiver. It broke Berwald's heart to see a human being in this state.

Tino's muscles tensed as he felt a weight descend upon his body. He looked up to find a warm blanket thrown over him and a lump of bread being pushed into his hands. He stared at it for a few seconds, then looked up with a puzzled and questioning look on his face.

"Fer you," mumbled Berwald, hoping the darkness disguised the blush from his face, "ya look like ya need it."

Tino didn't need to be told twice; he ripped a large chunk out of the bread and swallowed without chewing, then another, and another. He'd almost forgotten how good bread could be. Even if this bread was somewhat hard and stale, it was the best thing he'd eaten in weeks. Bless this stranger! How could Tino have even _thought_ for a moment that he was a murderer? He was nothing more than a saint!

"Hey it ya swallow without chewing ye'll get sick," warned Berwald. Tino glared at him.

"I haven't eaten in three days," was all Berwald got in reply before Tino started wolfing down more chunks of bread.

Suddenly, Tino stopped eating and began to splutter and cough, the dry bread getting stuck in his dryer throat and choking him. Berwald hurriedly passed a flask of water which Tino downed in one go before handing an empty flask back to him.

"Thank you," he sighed, leaning back against the bridge, "I can't believe how exhausting coughing is." Berwald said nothing but handed him a wedge of cheese. Tino took it gratefully and begin to eat, slower this time, alternating between it and the remaining bread. He looked up at his companion suspiciously.

"Why are you helping me?" he demanded. Berwald looked taken aback for a few seconds before replying, slowly and carefully.

"Well ya needed a helping hand," he said, "it's horrible to see someone so young look like ya do," he couldn't help but feel slightly (very) embarrassed as he said it; Tino probably thought he was weird. Was indifference and not helping really the norm here?

"Well you're the first to think like that," said Tino, "people here see a guy on the street with no home or possessions and they instantly blame him for everything that happened in his life. He's not for them to worry about. It's not their business!"

So he was right.

"Besides," added Berwald, "it's m' mission in life to make sure children are happy and to r'duce their suffering." Tino glared at him again, looking somewhat offended; oh crap, did he say something wrong again?

"I'm not a child!" he said indignantly, "I'm seventeen, you know."

Berwald was starting to hate being right. Tino wasn't finished.

"Just because you're, what-?"

"Tw'nty."

"Twenty," repeated Tino, "doesn't mean you can treat me like I'm no older than little Lars over there."

Berwald nodded, "I know, s'rry Tino."

"Oh, well that's okay," Tino's face softened a little.

There was silence for a few moments before Tino decided to break it, but Berwald got there first.

"Where are yer shoes?" he asked. Tino looked down at his feet, now buried in a blanket. His left leg was poking out though; he didn't want to get blood on the stranger's blanket.

"Oh, well I sold them a week or so ago for food," he explained, "all I got for them was barely enough to buy some cold soup," he added darkly. To be completely honest, he was surprised he managed to sell the things in the first place.

"Ah, I see." It was then that Berwald noticed a large cut on Tino's left leg, so that's why he was holding it at a weird angle.

"Hey what h'ppened to yer leg?" he asked, hoping Tino wasn't finding the questions too uncomfortable, but the man just made a weak shrugging gesture.

"Fell over today, slipped on some frost and hit a cart or something. It hurts like hell and I was limping all the way here." Tino scowled at himself. _Great job_ , he thought, _way to wallow in pity to a stranger, you still have your pride, you know._ _He laughed internally as he thought that; there was no room for pride in his life anymore._

"Mind if I have a look?" asked Berwald.

"Knock yourself out," grumbled Tino.

"Sorry?" Berwald was genuinely confused at this.

"It means yes, go ahead." Tino explained.

"Oh, okay, I, err, have some bandages and antis'ptic with me so… might be able to help you."

"Really," asked Tino, raising an eyebrow, "why would you help me?"

"Because I want to and I can," Berwald replied simply. Tino didn't like this, trusting someone after months of being alone. And strangers don't just help strangers for no reason. _What was this man's motive?_

"Still, those things are pretty expensive, are you sure you want to waste them on someone you jut met?"

"I'm sure," Berwald said, "I saved up for them so I'd be prepared in emergencies. And this looks like an emergency."

He moved over to the sight of the wound, after passing a sleeping Lars to Tino, and studied it closely. It was bad. A large gash ran from the side of his knee to a third of the way down his shin. It wouldn't be too deep on a normal person but Tino was so thin he was surprised it wasn't exposing the bone. It was red and sore, but it least it didn't look infected, well, not to Berwald anyways.

Of course, Berwald didn't have a clue about medicine; that was his sister's forte. Even just thinking about her, Berwald felt a painful pang in his heart. It had only been a few months after the accident that took her life and he wasn't used to having to face life without her. But this man needed help, and Berwald was never one to deny someone that. So he set to work, cleaning the wound with antiseptic, trying to ignore the hiss of pain coming from Tino's mouth, before wrapping it with clean bandages.

After his work was finished, Berwald sat down beside Tino, who was looking at the baby intently.

Tino couldn't remember the last time he'd seem a face so innocent and sweet, and alive. Lars' deep blue eyes were closed and he had a thumb in his tiny mouth. A lock of ginger hair peeked out from the blanket and he looked so peaceful, so untarnished by the cruelties of the world. Tino smiled as he handed him back to Berwald.

"He's so adorable," he said, "I can see you've been taking good care of him. Your sister would be proud." Tino honestly meant it.

"Thanks," mumbled Berwald, "I hope she would be too."

There was another short period of silence before Tino spoke again.

"So how come you came to London? I'm sure it wasn't for the smell," he added jokingly.

"Well I want to open up a toy shop here and m'ke toys for kids," Berwald explained.

"Well good luck with that," said Tino. He looked out at the river in front of him, greyish brown water slowly making its way down to the ocean. The world seemed almost colourless, only a few speaks of light from the buildings opposite the river breaking the expanse of grey.

"Terrific view," he said sarcastically.

"Wonderful," Berwald replied in the same tone, "but I must ask, why is it that colour?"

"It used to be where all the sewage pipes fed out to. Even though the pipes are directed elsewhere nowadays it's still polluted," he chuckled a little as Berwald made a small squeak- he didn't know the man's voice was able to go that high- and looked in disgust at the mud he was sitting in.

"So all this is…is…"

"Welcome to London," Tino joked, patting Berwald on the back, then yawned.

"Tired?" asked Berwald.

"Jus' a little," mumbled Tino sleepily, leaning against the other's warm coat, "haven't talked this much in days. Maybe weeks."

"Oh, sorry."

"No no… is nice, to have someone to talk ta." Tino was half asleep by now.

"Goodnight," said Berwald awkwardly, but Tino was already asleep. Berwald smiled a little before looking out at the river in front of him.

He didn't sleep at all.

The next morning the three shared a small breakfast of weak broth Berwald had made whilst Tino slept and they packed their things, well, Berwald packed his and Lars' things; Tino didn't have anything to pack.

Before they parted, Berwald took off his coat and draped it over Tino's shoulders, the other lifted up his hands, fingertips brushing against the stiff material.

"But don't you need it?" he asked. Berwald shook his head.

"I'm warm enough, and I pl'n to find a room to rent today, so I can start work. I can g't another soon."

Tino shrugged and put his arms through the sleeves. It was far too big for him but so warm that he didn't care. Oh gosh, it was so soft and snugly that Tino felt like he was wrapped up in a giant blanket which would protect him from the evils of the world.

"Thank you," he said, "for everything. You're one in a million Berwald." He smiled, well, it was true and Tino wasn't too prideful to admit it.

"As are you, Tino," replied Berwald, "take care and I hope your luck changes soon."

"Oh it think it already has," he said hopefully, "and who knows, maybe it's enough to keep me out of the workhouses." And with that, Tino walked away, waving happily as he went.

_~present~_

Tino smiled warmly at the memory, then chuckled.

"Sorry," he said to his friend, still smiling, "it's just that whenever I'm all wrapped up in warm blankets, I always remember that."

"It's fine," said Berwald. Tino nodded sleepily and looked at the fire. It was dying now, embers barely glowing, which meant it was probably time to call it a night and get some sleep.

"Hey I think it's getting late…" he began. Berwald nodded and stood up, downing the last of his now cold milk and setting the mug in the table; he'll get it tomorrow. Tino got up too and stretched; the rocking horse could wait until tomorrow as well.

"It's funny sharing a room with you now, you know?"

Berwald nodded, nervously playing with his hands and hoping his flushed face wouldn't steam up his glasses. _No, don't think_ …

"Nice though," Tino added, "cosy even. It reminds me of how we were before we got this place, but nicer, you know?"

Another nod.

They heard a knock at the door. Tino groaned and began to make his way down the stairs, feeling his way as he struggled in the darkness. Who the hell was calling this late at night?

Berwald followed him into the shop and leaned against the counter as Tino, obviously annoyed, opened the door. He braced himself for the rant that was sure to follow, but it never came. Instead, Tino turned to him with a face drained of colour.

"It's Mathias," he whispered; "he's been mugged."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the chapter that inspired the whole story in the first place, which was in turn inspired by the song 'Missing you' by Christy Moore. So… enjoy!


	12. Garrotter

Mathias was in a terrible state. As he limped into the shop, Tino and Berwald could see he'd been severely beaten. His clothes were torn and muddy, hair dishevelled, bottom lip cut and face bruised, most likely from where he'd hit the pavement. He allowed Tino to drag him gently to a wooden stool and sit him down, stroking his hair soothingly.

"Hey can you get a cloth and bowl of water for him?" he asked Berwald, "and wake Aleks and Erikur too."

Berwald nodded and left the room. Tino gave Mathias a sympathetic look, and the latter responded with a miserable expression; he looked like a kicked puppy. His head was bowed down and his shoulders slouched, so different from the confident young man striding about the shop that morning.

A few minutes later, Berwald returned with the water and their two tired housemates. A concerned expression made its way onto Aleks' usually indifferent face and Erikur gasped.

"What happened to him?" asked the older [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=12/#).

"I think he has been mugged," suggested Tino, "probably on his way back from the pub when he was too intoxicated to be aware of his surroundings." Mathias folded his arms and [wrinkled](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=12/#) at being accused of being too drunk to focus.

 _"_ _Were_ you mugged?" asked Erikur. Mathias nodded sadly, gesturing to his pockets to indicate his money was gone.

"Well at least you weren't carrying _all_ your money, right?" asked Erikur, somewhat apprehensively. Mathias thought for a moment then nodded, causing the teen to sigh in relief. Tino dipped the cloth in the bowl and squeezed the excess water out before gently wiping Mathias' muddy, bruised face.

"Your injuries do not seem too deep; there might be some bruises for a few days but hopefully there shouldn't be permanent scarring," Tino assured him. Relief seemed to wash over Mathias' face like the wet cloth [cleaning](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=12/#) it.

"Wait a minute," began Aleks apprehensively.

"What is it?" asked Erikur.

"Something doesn't feel right," he murmured, rubbing his chin with a finger.

Tino shivered slightly before asking "what do you mean?"

Aleks just shrugged.

"Well, there is just something weird about the whole thing but I can't put my finger on it…" then suddenly he looked at Mathias, who shrank back at his glare.

"You haven't said one word since you got here!"

 _Oh yeah._ Everyone looked at Mathias.

"It's true;" added Erikur, "usually if something like this happened to you you'd be acting all melodramatic and whiny."

Mathias silently scoffed at this, then sighed and gestured to his neck and throat.

"What is it?" asked Aleks in concern. Mathias continued to gesture, wildly now, at his throat. Tino narrowed his eyes and stared at the, apparently mute, man's neck, the lower half of which was hidden by a turned up collar and tie. He thought he could see something just peeking out of the collar but couldn't quite be certain…

Then his eyes widened and Tino rushed forward to undo his collar, surprising everyone in the room, including Mathias, who struggled feebly for a moment before letting Tino undo the first few buttons on his shirt and loosen the tie. He pulled the material away from Mathias' neck to reveal deep purple bruises the size of fists either side of Mathias' throat. Aleks and Erikur gasped at the sight of the wounds.

"Just as I suspected," murmured Tino, "he's been garrotted."

"He's been what?" asked Erikur.

"Garrotted," repeated Tino.

"What is that?"

"Well," he began, "a garrotter is a special kind of mugger who sneaks up behind people and presses their fists against their victims' throats. Not too hard, but enough to make them faint and render them mute. Though not for long," he added, seeing the look of panic sweep across his three friends' faces, "just enough for the thief to make his escape without the peelers being called. To be honest I thought they were pretty much extinct by now; this is the first garrotter attack I've seen in years."

"Peelers?" inquired Erikur.

"The police," Tino clarified, then he turned back to Mathias, "your mugger seems to have pressed a bit too hard, so that's probably why it's taking so long to regain your voice. But look on the bright side; it wasn't hard enough to kill you!"

Mathias' eyes widened in shock and made a gesture that seemed to say _what the hell?_

"I'm sure you'll be back to your loud self in no time at all," added Tino cheerfully. Mathias gave a sarcastic 'thumbs up' hand motion.

"Until then we can enjoy a little peace 'n quiet," said Berwald jokingly, earning a scowl from Mathias, and Aleks.

"Yes that would be nice," mused Erikur.

Mathias turned his glare on the now sniggering Erikur.

"But seriously," said Tino with a strait face, "we should protect Mathias in case he gets attacked again, so he won't be injured."

Everyone calmed down at this and thought for a moment. Tino gave an evil smile as an idea formed in his head.

"How about one of those stupid neck ruffs they used to wear hundreds of years ago, so no one can touch his throat!"

Everyone chuckled at the thought, except Mathias and Aleks, who glared at Tino.

"Or a dress w'th a wide skirt! So the garrotter's arms can't reach," added Berwald, giving one of his rare guffaws at the idea. Mathias looked at him in horror, realised he was joking and began to make obscene hand gestures at the taller man. Tino and Erikur doubled over laughing.

"Or he could just pay attention and not get drunk," suggested Erikur. Mathias shook his head slowly at this.

"Or you all could just leave him alone?" spat Aleks, "the man has been through a traumatic event and needs compassion and care, not cruel banter."

Tino, Berwald and Erikur waited for the punch line to Aleks' probably-at-the-expense-of-Mathias joke. When none came, Tino muttered "oh fuck, he's serious,' under his breath.

"Ah c'me on Aleks," reasoned Berwald, "we were just jokin'. And the guy keeps doing that daft pouting and it's hard fer us ta take him seriously!"

"Well try harder!" hissed Aleks, "I know you two haven't always got along but please try to be civil! Stop making fun of Mathias and help him instead!"

"I cleaned his face," reminded Tino timidly.

"Whilst mocking him!"

"All part of the service!"

"Err, Aleks," whispered Berwald, "could ya please keep yer voice down-"

"No I will not keep my voice down just because your kids are asleep! You should have thought about that before-" Aleks was really angry now.

"What's your problem broth-" began Erikur.

"All of you!" spat Aleks, "you're all picking on Mathias for no reason! What is your damn problem? Just stop it, okay?" and with that, he stormed upstairs. The remaining people all stood in stunned silence. Mathias sighed and went to follow him but Berwald placed a hand on his chest, shaking his head.

"I'll talk ta him," he stated. Mathias gave him a look that seemed to say something along the lines of _you're almost as bad as I am at talking right now._ But Berwald did not relent and continued to glare at him. Mathias sighed and sat back down.

"Um maybe ye can sort out his wounds whilst I talk ta Aleks?" he suggested, glancing hopefully at Tino.

"Course," the man replied, picking up the damp cloth again. Berwald nodded and tentatively made his way upstairs.

He found Aleks lying on their sofa, staring into the fire but not seeing. Berwald cleared his throat awkwardly and Aleks looked up at him, glaring viciously.

"What do you want?" he hissed.

"Jus' wanted ta apologise," Berwald told him, "we shouldn'ta taken the piss outta Mathias."

Aleks continued to glare, but seemed to accept the apology, sitting up to give Berwald room on the sofa, who sat down, relieved.

"Ye've changed," commented Berwald. Aleks stared at him questioningly.

"I mean, well, ye used ta really rip into Mathias when ye first met him. You had a go at him for every little thing and we almost always made him the butt of our jokes. Wouldn'ta been surprised if he kicked us out, but he took it all in h's stride, even made a few jabs back. All p'rt of the fun, I guess… guess there were times we all got along that made up for it, but still…"

Aleks thought for a moment, the look on his face suggested there was something he truly wanted to say, but was too afraid.

"What is it?" asked Berwald, sounding concerned.

"Cannot say," mumbled Aleks, avoiding his friend's gaze.

"Don't care what it is," said Berwald, "you've been m' best friend since we were children, I just want to know what is going on."

"It's sensitive. A secret."

"Can't have secrets here," Berwald sighed, "it's too small 'n crowded for th't. If you tell me, y'might become less tense and snappy."

"Are you saying I'm bad tempered?" snapped Aleks, who then sighed, chuckling, "okay, you might have a point."

"Gonna tell me?"

"No. Revealing secrets might help sometimes but it can also go the other way. I don't want the three of us to have to pack up and leave again because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

"Do you think I would actually thr'w ya out?" Berwald raised an eyebrow, "I'm hurt."

"You'd be surprised," Aleks looked away bitterly, "people always say they won't get angry and accept you no matter what… turns out they were lying…"

"I see…" Berwald thought for a moment, "look, you could've killed someone, and you'd still be welc'me here. I mean it, Aleksander."

There was a moment before anyone spoke again.

"I love Mathias," whispered Aleks, tears starting to form in his eyes, "and he loves me."

Silence.

"I know it's an almost unheard of situation, and it probably disgusts you; it disgusted my parents. That's why I stayed in Copenhagen with Mathias; they wouldn't let me back in their house. Is it wrong? To love someone of your own gender? We don't think so, and neither does Erikur, which was why he came with us, I couldn't stand the idea of him staying with our parents, especially at the young age he was back then. He isn't like… us, so if you're going to throw Mathias and myself out, please let Erikur stay." Aleks was crying now, tears streaming down his face as he grabbed onto Berwald's sleeve, "I don't want him to be homeless or living on the streets. Please I beg of-"

"Aleks…" Berwald spoke calmly, "I don't care about what or who you love. I understand, and don't find you disgusting. I promise." Aleks blinked in surprise.

"You're not throwing us out?" he asked, not daring to believe it.

"Never."

"You are not going to get us arrested?"

"Of course not!" Berwald looked his friend in the eye, "you love him and he loves you?"

"Very much so," whispered Aleks.

"Then we don't h've a problem," stated Berwald, nodding firmly, "sure, no one else would probably have the same attitude, so you might want t' not shout it out to the world, but here you're both surrounded by friends who care and understand." He gave a small smile but Aleks remained unconvinced.

"I don't understand," he murmured, "how you are able to sympathise. People just don't accept it. They don't understand and write it off as against nature and illegal. Why can you-"

"Hey we're just putting Mathias to bed now," Tino peeked his head in through the door, smiling nervously, "you alright now Aleks?" he asked.

"I am," was the reply.

"Apologies for being a complete cod's head," added Tino.

"A what?"

Tino chucked, "an idiot, a fool; call me what you want but I was out of order and I am very sorry."

"Hey it's fine," Aleks couldn't help but smile a little.

"Good," chirped Tino, and he disappeared, only to be replaced by Mathias.

"So I'm off to bed now," he said, "so tired after a crazy day. Will you two be up soon?"

"Sure," said Aleks. "We're just talking. Hey I've got some good news; I'll tell you when I get up, alright?"

Mathias nodded, "oh, by the way, Berwald?"

"Yes?" asked Berwald through gritted teeth.

"I hope you get hit by a carriage for what you said!"

Aleks noticed Berwald's hands, resting on his lap, clench into fists and a dangerous expression cross his face. Even Mathias noticed and he shrank back. Aleks wondered for a moment why that particular jab would affect him like that; Berwald usually took Mathias' jokes and insults in his stride, replying with insults of his own. But what was so different about that one?

Oh, right, his sister…

"Seriously, of all the things to say, you had to tell him that?" he hissed at Mathias, who paused for a moment as he slowly reached the same thought as his lover. When he got there his eyes widened in horror.

"Berwald I'm so sorry," he gasped, "I didn't think! I never meant it like tha-"

"It's fine," Berwald's face softened as much as it was possible for him when talking to Mathias, "I know ya didn't mean it like that."

Mathias breathed a sigh of relief, then decided it was probably best to leave, offering one final apology before making his way upstairs. Aleks turned to Berwald and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Mathias didn't mean any harm," he said, "he just speaks without thinking sometimes…"

"I know," said Berwald, "used t' live with him, remember?"

"Course I remember, I was there!"

"Still miss her though," he admitted, "even now it's still painful to think of how I'll never see her again, how she'll never see Lars grow up. Astrid missed so much in his life, and h'r own!"

"I know," said Aleks soothingly, "losing family hurts. If anything happened to Erikur, I wouldn't know what to do."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, Aleks returning to the train of thought he was on before Tino interrupted it. Then it hit him.

"So that's why you are so understanding of Mathias and I!" he exclaimed, face curling into a small smile, "you are in love with Ti-"

"Shut up!" Berwald covered Aleks' mouth with a hand, glancing at the open door behind him with a panicked expression. He slowly removed his hand from Aleks' mouth, stood up, and closed the sitting room door, checking the hall outside first. He then leaned against the door, looking at Aleks, blushing slightly.

"So it's true," mused Aleks, "you're in love with Tino." Berwald nodded, hanging his head.

"Are you crying?" asked Aleks.

"No."

"It's alright," said Aleks, "want to talk about it?"

Berwald shook his head.

"Talking helps, you know," Aleks told him. "I feel much better after talking to you." Berwald sighed and sat back down on the sofa.

"Loved him since I met him," he told Aleks.

"You've managed to keep your feelings secret for ten whole years?" asked Aleks, astounded.

"You of all people should know how easily I can conceal emotions." Berwald retorted, before continuing, "I c'n lie about anything I need to, and I've needed to lie about this for a long time. But c'n you blame me? The moment I saw him I knew he was special, he had this look in his eyes that made him seem like he would never give up, ever. And I liked that about him, respected that about him."

"I see," Aleks murmured, "so are you planning on telling him anytime soon?"

Berwald shook his head. "Can't risk it," he said, "besides, we live together, we're best friends and really close, heck, we even share custody of two children. We're practically married and I'm happy as I am. So what if we'll n'ver be close in the way I want? If I tell him how I feel he could hate me; at the very least things would be awkward. Maybe he'd attack me? Or kick me out? I'd rather spend the rest of my life close to Tino without him knowing the truth than have him know and despise me."

"You really have such a low opinion of Tino?" asked Aleks, astounded, "although I haven't known him as long as you, he seems like the kind of fellow who, if someone said they loved him, would accept it, even if he didn't return the feelings he'd never feel resentment for something you have no control of. Besides, would he allow Peter and Lars to refer to you two as their 'parents' if he felt nothing for you? Or act like you two were married? That's not normal behaviour, even for best friends, so, who knows, maybe he loves you back."

Berwald was silent for a few minutes before speaking again. "You think so?" he asked tentatively.

'I do,' Aleks nodded.

"I'll… think about it," Berwald got up off the sofa, "it's late, goodnight Aleksander." Although he'd said that to appease his friend, Berwald knew he'd never tell Tino the truth. If it went wrong… his heart would just shatter beyond repair. He'd become a shell of a man, not the business partner and friend Tino deserved, and not the father his sons needed. There was always the chance Tino would throw him onto the street, and he'd never see his family again.

No, Tino wouldn't do that, right? It was more likely that the other man would pack his bags and leave without so much as a goodbye, meaning Berwald would still be out of his life for good.

"Night," Aleks waved goodbye.

As Berwald ascended the stairs to the second floor, he thought he could hear voices coming from his and Tino's room. Opening the door, he found Tino already in his bed with Mathias sitting on the edge telling some sort of story, waving his arms wildly as Tino stared at him speaking in awe. Trying to ignore the feeling of jealousy in his chest, (why would he be jealous? Mathias loved Aleks, remember?) Berwald walked over to his own bed, sat down, and cleared his throat. Mathias looked over and nodded a greeting.

"Oh hey Waldy," Berwald's eye twitched at the nickname, "I was just telling Tino about the time I took Erikur fishing and we caught this massive cod. Seriously! It was bigger than Erikur was at the time. Kept us fed for a whole week!"

"Sounds interesting, I'm sure," mumbled Berwald, "but I'm really tired so, if you don't mind, I'd like t' go to sleep now. Fuck off into your own room."

"Oh, sure, sure," Mathias got up to leave, grinning, "sleep well Tino; hope your bed has ants Berwald."

"Same ta ye!" retorted Berwald, giving a tiny smile whilst the other laughed, shutting the door. Tino chuckled and blew out the candle on the table next to his bed before settling back under the blankets.

"So what were you and Aleks talking about?" he asked, looking over at his friend.

Berwald shrugged, "jus' sayin' sorry an'… talkin' bout Mathias," he paused, "wha' were ye and Mathias talkin' bout?"

"Not much, just about how Mathias was attacked, you know, what happened this evening and then I asked him about Aleks and he told me…" Tino paused for a second before looking Berwald in the eye nervously, "can you keep a secret?" he asked.

Berwald nodded.

"And you promise not to judge?"

Another nod.

"Well… Aleks and Mathias are, um, well, in…" Tino looked around uncomfortably, fiddling with his hands.

"In love?" finished Berwald. Tino nodded.

"That's it, and he was afraid to tell you but- hang on a second, you know?"

Berwald nodded, "Aleks just tol' me."

"Ah, I see, and you don't care?"

"Not one bit," said Berwald, "they go well together."

"Yes they do," agreed Tino, "must be hard though, for them, having to keep their affections to themselves around others."

"Harder th'n we can imagine…" the pair locked eyes before Berwald looked away, faking a cough.

"Well, at least they are safe here, right?"

"Course," confirmed Berwald, "they'll alw'ys be safe here!"

"Well, goodnight then."

"Goodn'ght," Berwald turned onto his side so he was facing the wall and fell asleep to the sound of Tino's humming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So historical note: garrotters were really a type of Victorian criminal and I won't say much about them as Tino pretty much said it all in this chapter. But I would like to point out that I'm not too sure whether the loosing the ability to talk was permanent for garrotter victims so I had to guess. Sorry if it's inaccurate. And 'peeler' was a real slang term for a policeman (after Robert Peel, the bloke who founded the police force) and cod's head was a real term for fool or idiot back then. Sorry, I really like Victorian slang ^^;
> 
> Now I'd just like to apologise for the poorly written angst, romance, confessions and all 'round poor dialogue. It's not my strongest point.


	13. The safer option

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oscar- Hutt River

Mathias' neck was still covered in bruises the next morning and he fiddled with his collar tentatively as he sat down at the breakfast table with the others. Tino came down last, yawning as he plopped himself down next to Berwald, who looked at him with the tiniest hint of guilt.

"What's wrong?" asked Tino, cutting himself a slice of bread.

"We're outa coffee," his friend explained.

"Oh, is that all?" chuckled Tino, "no need to look so scared! I'm not a _complete_ ogre in the mornings!"

"Y'are…"

"Either way, I'll just have a beer then." This earned him a surprised look from the taller man.

"Why doncha just have water?"

Tino ignored him and got up to pour himself a mug.

"Does anyone else want one?" he asked the rest of the table, "no, not you Peter." Peter lowered his hand giggling. Mathias shook his head.

"I think I have learned my lesson," he said, "no more beer for me."

"Well… err… I understand," Tino scratched the back of his head, "if that's what you…"

"I'm joking Tino!" exclaimed Mathias, "pour me a glass, will ya?" Tino laughed and got a second mug from the cupboard.

"May I have one too?" asked Aleks.

"Course," chirped Tino, collecting a third glass, "want one Erikur?" The teen nodded silently, mouth full of pickled fish.

Tino loaded four glasses with amber liquid and passed them around to the other three. Berwald [wrinkled](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=13/#) his nose at them.

"'Is too early ta be drinking. There's nothin' wrong with water." He told them. Tino shrugged.

"Don't trust it," he mumbled, "too dirty."

"Ah, stop worryin' bou' the water," Berwald chided, "the pipes are safe now."

"Still not taking any chances."

"He's right papa," piped up Peter, "that's how my mother died, remember? She drank dirty water from the pump outside the factory where she worked because the owner didn't want to pay for new pipelines and she got cholera. The owner was arrested for it but not before half his employees died. It was over a few years too, my [brothers](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=13/#) told me. He didn't care; just employed new women and children who were desperate for a job." His bottom lip quivered and he looked like he was about to cry. Aleks patted him on the back.

"There, there," he murmured, "don't think about the past." Peter nodded and continued to eat.

"Fine, keep yer beer," mumbled Berwald grumpily, beginning to read the newspaper he brought earlier this morning.

After a few minutes, Tino looked over at him and asked, "see anything interesting in there?"

"Not much," came the reply, "oh, wait, s'ys here a tailor was found dead this morning in his own shop."

"Sounds dreadful," gasped Aleks.

"Anyone we know?" asked Tino. Berwald nodded.

"A bloke named Francis Bonnefoy."

"Oh not him," sighed Tino, "he was a nice chap. I bought a few shirts and coats for the kids from him. He was really passionate about his work and good at making clothes. His sisters must be distraught! I should visit them later."

"He used to live on the same street as us," added Peter, "when I was little, and he was good friends with Arthur, though they did fight a lot. But they were close like [brothers](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=13/#), even though Arthur had plenty brothers of his own, and the two of them would make plans for adventures and when they were older, Arthur was going to marry one of Francis' sisters so they could be real brothers."

"It's a shame to lose him," concluded Tino.

"Hey, let's hope they catch this serial killer soon," said Mathias. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure the police will find them," added Erikur. The rest of breakfast continued in a more sombre mood and everyone trudged downstairs for a long day of work or school.

Mathias decided to walk around the road with a tray of small toys to sell as a publicity stunt and placed a pile of wooden soldiers and animals on a large slab of wood before making his way out onto the busy street. The door hadn't even closed behind him when he began to cry out at the passers by, urging them to buy a toy for their children. By mid-morning he had cleared the tray, much to everyone's surprise and they suspected a number of passers-by had bought a toy in the hopes that he'd leave them alone. Or they might have just liked him and his bright smile. No one was quite sure. Either way, Mathias was proud and so was everyone else.

…

Charlotte and Yekaterina stood outside their home waiting for Lars and Peter to arrive. The situation made Charlotte somewhat confused, as they were hardly ever late and it was normally the boys waiting impatiently outside the door for her. She didn't dwell on it though, and instead turned to Yekaterina, who was her new housemate and, hopefully, friend.

"So where are you from?" she asked, "you have an interesting accent."

Yekaterina looked up from watching Ivan and Natalya, who were playing a few meters away, and smiled. The girl wore one of Charlotte's old [school uniforms](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=13/#) that was too small for Charlotte herself, but fitted the thinner, more emaciated Yekaterina fine. She held an old bag in her hands and her greyish-blonde hair was neatly tied up. This was a girl ready for her first day of school.

"My family came from Russia," she replied, "a small village near the Ukraine; my mother was actually Ukrainian but my father was Russian. They were serfs who were given their freedom from their landlords back in 1861, and by 1866 they were completely free with all payments paid off and no debt! Their families became what we call Kulaks, meaning they were rich peasants, which is a strange pair of words to put together, now that I think of it. Of course, this made them unpopular, but they didn't care and got married, moving into my father's family [cottage](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=13/#). I was born but soon afterwards my father's brother was attacked, for being a Kulak, see?" She sighed, looking down, "so my parents decided they didn't want me or any future child of theirs growing up here. They were young at the time and decided to try their luck abroad. First going to Germany, then the Netherlands, then Britain. But the polluted air and crowded conditions were too much of a shock for them and they died not long after moving here. Natalya was only two at the time and I was suddenly the head of the family."

"Wow," gasped Charlotte, "that must have been hard."

Yekaterina nodded, "it was," she said, "and there were times when I thought we were all going to starve, but we made it through!" Charlotte looked at the girl next to her in anguish. How could someone so young be made to go through all that? Living on the streets begging and stealing was what these three had to live with, whilst Charlotte, although not the richest person in the world, always had enough to eat, schooling, and both her parents, plus her older brother Oscar who always protected her.

"I promise," she told Yekaterina, "that nothing bad will ever happen to you or your bother and sister again as long as I'm here. You've gone through enough and deserve happiness."

Yekaterina looked like she was about to cry. She girl pulled Charlotte into a crushing hug.

"Thank you!" she cried, "and I promise to always help you!" Charlotte wrapped her arms around her new friend and hugged back.

"Thank you," she sobbed. Ever since her brother left she'd sorely missed having someone to look after who'd do the same for her and, although she had Peter and Lars, had felt lonely being the only child in a busy household.

"Hey sorry we're late," came Peter's voice. Charlotte turned to see him and Lars walking cheerily towards them.

Yekaterina giggled and, taking Ivan and Natalya's hands in her own, said, "come on or we'll all be late!" the other three followed her as she skipped to school. "So what will I learn first?" she asked.

"Well that depends," Lars informed her; "can you read?"

"Yes," she sniffed, "my parents taught me to read in Russian and Ukrainian. But I can't read or write in English, only Cyrillic."

"Well then that'll probably be the first thing they teach you," said Lars.

"That sounds fun,' Yekaterina smiled happily.

"Of course there'll be no teaching of anything 'til we get to school," grumbled Charlotte, "and we'll all get a beating if we are late so we might want to run, right?"

So, once again, they all ran noisily and happily to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but this was originally a bit shorter but I decided to give Yekaterina, Ivan and Natalya a back-story, mainly because we happen to be studying late 18th century Russia at school in history and I wanted to apply my knowledge to this story. Sorry about that.
> 
> Not too happy with the ending but I'm sure it'll be better in the next few chapters. Got some gerita and more back-stories coming up so stay tuned.
> 
> My sincerest apologies to France fans! But I should warn you that there will be more character death in this story (it is a murder mystery, after all).


	14. Walk you home safely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carlos- Cuba
> 
> Jan- Netherlands
> 
> Luca- Luxembourg
> 
> Marianne- Monaco
> 
> Michelle- Seychelles

Later that night, Ludwig tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Florenza to finish talking to her director, a tall but friendly-looking man in his late thirties. It had been raining earlier that evening and the cobbled ground was dotted with puddles. There was a heavy sell of smoke in the air from a nearby factory and Ludwig felt uneasy standing in a tiny back street in one of the less-friendly parts of London.

He'd just been to see her perform as Miranda in the Tempest, one of Shakespeare's plays. As it turned out, she was pretty talented, and beautiful in her Tudor-style costume.

"Well see you tomorrow night then Sadik," said Florenza cheerily as she waved goodbye to him and skipped over to join Ludwig, taking his arm in hers.

"So, what did you think?" she asked. Ludwig looked at Florenza, taking in her beauty. She was quite a bit shorter than him, a little chubby and wearing a vermillion dress, again low-cut but still quite classy. She walked with her head held high, shoes making little tapping sounds as she walked. Florenza's curly, auburn hair was tied in a ponytail, a little curled strand sticking out at the side. Her amber eyes looked up at him expectantly and Ludwig realised she was still waiting for an answer.

"Um, well I…" Ludwig played with the collar of his policeman's uniform; he hadn't had time to change out of it before going to the play and it had earned him several glares from members of the audience and, Ludwig swore, a few of the actors too.

"I thought you were wonderful in the play." He finally mumbled.

"Aw thank you," she said, "wasn't Antonio just marvellous as Ferdinand?"

Ludwig tried to recall which character Ferdinand was, and then he remembered he was Miranda's love interest, and played by an extremely handsome Spanish man.

"Yeah… sure he was err…. Adequate."

Florenza frowned, "didn't you like the play?" she asked.

"No, no, course I liked it!"

"And weren't Heracles, Kiku and Carlos the best as Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo?"

"Huh? Sure."

Florenza puffed air into her cheeks and pouted.

"Did you even pay attention to the play?"

Ludwig blinked in shock and looked around panickedly. "Of course I was paying attention!"

"Doesn't sound like you were." Florenza folded her arms and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Ludwig gently grabbed her arm and she glared at him angrily.

"I… err," Ludwig sighed, "fine, the only reason I wasn't paying full attention was because when you were on stage I was only focused on you and what you did and what you were saying, and when you were off stage I was thinking of you. I know that probably sounds a little weird and I apologise for not paying attention to the play but… I couldn't take my eyes off of you. You're a brilliant actress" He could feel himself blushing and looked away. Well, he'd done it now: made a complete fool of himself! Again. Florenza was going to walk away, wasn't she?

"Wow that's so sweet of you and I'm flattered," Florenza smiled and Ludwig removed his arm quickly. She nodded her head and continued to walk next to him.

"So was there anyone you thought was good except me?" she inquired. Ludwig considered for a moment.

"Yes the guy who was Prospero was good. He seemed to have a knack at that whole protective father thing."

"Yes protective family members are Jan's specialty, he's had plenty of practice seeing as he has a younger [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=14/#) and sister, although, the younger brother died a week or so ago. Dear little Luca was one of the early victims of this spree of murders that's been happening lately. You probably know about him."

"Oh, that's terrible to hear, I'm sorry for his loss," said Ludwig, "yes, I was one of the officers investigating…"

"It's such a shame," Florenza continued sorrowfully, "that boy had his [whole life](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=14/#) ahead of him. He was an apprentice at the greengrocers and only seventeen. And Jan's not the only one to have lost someone to these killings. Our only other female performer, Marianne Bonnefoy, was absent because she is mourning the loss of her older brother, Francis. She now has to look after her younger sister Michelle by herself and she doesn't know how to cope yet." Florenza turned to Ludwig and looked at him intently, "please find the killer and bring him or her to justice. They are killing innocent people and the ones left behind don't know what to do."

"It is our top priority," assured Ludwig, "and my partner Eduard and I patrol the streets together in twelve hour shifts where the killings have been most frequent. There are talks of increasing the number of policemen on the beat and hopefully that will get sorted in a few days time."

"Yes but what if that comes too late for someone?"

Ludwig avoided her gaze.

"These things happen, but I will try my hardest to make sure that does not, I promise."

"Thank you," Florenza's face relaxed.

"So what other plays do you do?" asked Ludwig, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, well we are going to do the Tempest for a couple more weeks and then move onto Romeo and Juliet. Marianne and I alternate playing Juliet. I'll be playing her on the first night."

"And I'm guessing Antonio is Romeo?" asked Ludwig, [wrinkling](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=14/#) his nose.

"Of course, he's our best actor. Though Heracles sometimes acts as Romeo too, whenever he convinces Sadik, which isn't often." Florenza looked at Ludwig's expression, "you're not jealous, are you?"

"Who? Me?" asked Ludwig innocently, "not at all."

"How about you come to the opening night and sit in the front row, and I will say Juliet's lines to you? The other audience members will think I say them to Romeo but I do not. I will say them to you?" Florenza smiled mischievously at the idea.

"Wow you would do that?" asked Ludwig, "Romeo and Juliet is one of my favourite plays and I always thought their lines were really romantic."

"Eh, it's no problem. I've never been fond of the play- a load of cliché dribble, if you ask me- so I'm scared of sounding wooden. My lines will sound more sincere if I say them to you," she smiled at him, "and the more sincere our lines sound, and the better our acting, the more chance we have of becoming successful."

"Yes I cannot understand how a talented bunch like you aren't already performing in a west end theatre," Ludwig mused, "but who knows, I mean, Romeo and Juliet is one of the most famous plays ever, so there might be someone who sees it that likes you all."

Florenza considered this for a few moments then nodded.

"I hope so," she said finally, "a lot of people came to see our performance when we did Titus Andronicus, well, and it appears that people are fond of tragedy and violence. Though people are supposed to dislike that play now, and a lot do, there are still a good few who pay to see it just for the blood and death. They find it thrilling. And Jan's performance as Titus was magnificent, especially his 'for I'll play the cook' line. It gave me shivers every time I heard it!"

"I'm sad I missed that," Ludwig told her, "I really liked that story. Roman and Italian history has always fascinated me."

"Well we might be doing it again in the New Year and I'll get you a seat for it then," Florenza reassured him. "So please come to see me perform, okay? If you don't I will tell Sadik and he will tell everyone to beat you up!" Ludwig couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"Well I guess I have no choi-HEY!" Ludwig shuddered as a bucket of freezing, filthy water was thrown over him. Whoever done it was now running away, disappearing into a side street and snickering as Florenza shouted at their retreating back angrily, switching between Italian and English, waving a fist.

"COME HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT I'LL FIGHT YOU MYSELF! Come here so I can back-hand you, you mewling lout!"

Ludwig sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It's fine," he sighed, "no point in yelling, I'm used to it."

Florenza still glared at the direction the person went.

"You shouldn't have to get used to it," she huffed, "you're doing a good thing; the police force is doing a good thing." She paused for a moment before continuing. "You know, last week some brute attacked me; I was terrified of what he was going to do, but a peeler like you saw and hit him with one of those stick thingies ye carry around and arrested him. Sure people don't like the feeling of being watched or going to jail, but the police are good people. They're regular people!"

"You really think so?" asked Ludwig. Florenza nodded and rested her head against his arm.

"Well… err, Danke, it's nice to see someone who feels that way about us. And I'm sorry to hear about your attack. I hope whoever did it never gets out of prison," he added fiercely.

"It's fine," murmured Florenza, "he didn't hurt me or anything, just scared me. Still, I always feel safe around you policemen, like no one can hurt me, ever."

"Well I'm glad I can make you fell safe," Ludwig smiled a little.

"So you will walk me home?" asked Florenza slyly.

"Of course, no problem at all."

"Well my brother Salvatorio will be asleep but you can meet Lovino." She told him, "hey, that reminds me, how did your brother fare meeting his old love?"

"Nicht so gut," Ludwig admitted, then, upon seeing Florenza's confused face, added, "sorry, I mean not so good."

"That's a shame," Florenza muttered, "is he feeling well now?"

"He is, now," Ludwig told her, "but, he was not when I got home. The poor man had nearly drunk himself stupid and was lying on my sofa singing quite out of tune."

"And did you comfort him like I said you should?" asked Florenza.

"Ja, of course!" exclaimed Ludwig, "I gave him a warm blanket and some soup, then comforted him and we eventually drank some beer and wine together and did a few duets of songs we loved as children. That cheered him up considerably and he spent yesterday afternoon and evening looking at tourist attractions around the city; he seemed in a pretty good mood when he left."

"It's nice to hear he is getting better," Florenza commented.

Just then, Florenza stopped walking and pulled out a key from her purse.

"This is it," she said, gesturing to a small, dingy house, "would you like to stay for dinner?"

Ludwig shook his head, not wanting to intrude, but a rumble in his stomach caused Florenza to take hold of one of his gloved hands and pull him inside.

"You must be starving," she cooed, "I'll make you something nice, okay? You'll feel better then." Ludwig could only nod. He didn't want her to have to cook something this late, but he had missed dinner today.

"I haven't had my dinner yet either," Florenza told him, as if she could read his mind, "so it's not like I wasn't cooking anyways."

"Oh, that doesn't sound so bad."

Ludwig looked around at the hallway. It was dark; no candles lit up the room and the wooden walls and floor were painted black. The corridors seemed to twist in the shadows, and he heard noises out of sight. Rats, maybe? Florenza began to walk up the stairs, dragging Ludwig behind her. He briefly wondered if she was dragging him into her home to kill him, or get someone else to. No, she wouldn't, right?

"We live on the first floor," she told him. Ah, so they owned a flat.

She led him to a door on the first floor landing and unlocked it. Ludwig prayed he was wrong and she wasn't a murderer, maybe even the serial killer they were after, and followed her in, preparing for a fight, but got none. Just a normal sitting room.

The interior was pretty cosy; a roaring fire in the hearth provided comfortable warmth which was at this time being appreciated by a young man sitting in an armchair warming his hands. He was tanned, with short brown hair, and wore a frown on his face. The man mumbled softly to himself and only looked up when his sister called to him.

"Hey, Lovino, I'm home!" she said cheerily, "and I brought my friend with me."

Lovino glanced up at Ludwig and his frown turned into look of horror. He leapt to his feet and shrieked, trying to discretely push a bag of coal out of sight with his foot.

"Why is there a policeman here? Sister, dearest Florenza, WHY IS THERE A POLICEMAN HERE?!" He was getting into a panic and was letting out a stream of profanity in both English and Italian. Florenza seemed unfazed by all of this and went over to pat him on the back.

"Calm down, Lovino, this is my friend, Ludwig," she told him, "please be nice; he's all right!"

"No," growled Lovino, "I don't want any bastard peelers in my home, okay? Tell him to leave, now!" He looked at her pleadingly.

"Are you threatening me, sir?" asked Ludwig calmly.

"Err…well… no, okay? I'm just asking you to leave, got it?" Lovino looked around nervously, fiddling with his collar.

"You know I could have you arrested right now?" asked Ludwig, again calmly.

Florenza gave a little shriek and looked from her brother to Ludwig. Lovino paled and shook his head.

"Yo-you would not dare, I'm your friend's brother, right?" he asked.

"Are you willing to take that chance? It's my duty to arrest my own family, if it came down to it. Do you really believe I'd think twice about locking up a scrawny brat like you?"

Lovino sighed. "Fine, stay… prick," he muttered. Florenza smiled at this.

"Great, you're getting along now," she chirped, "I am sure you will soon be the best of friends." Then she skipped off into the kitchen. Both Ludwig and Lovino made looks of horror after her but said nothing. Then Ludwig coughed, turning his attention to Lovino.

"Shall we start again?" he inquired, holding out a hand, which Lovino took and shook.

"I guess," he admitted, "no harm, right? And although I didn't like you at first…"

"Shocking," muttered Ludwig dryly.

"The thing is, my sister seems happy with you, so I won't say anything against you."

"And I won't say anything against Florenza's brothers."

Lovino nodded at this.

"And I don't care about the stolen coal you tried to hide behind the chair," he whispered to Lovino, "I'm not paid enough to care and besides, it'll probably be cold this winter."

Lovino gave a small smile.

"You blue bastards aren't so bad really," he admitted.

"I shall take that as a compliment," Ludwig chuckled. Then he walked into the kitchen to find Florenza peeling potatoes with a knife.

"Hope you don't mind," she said, "but there wasn't much else, except a few tomatoes."

"Hey maybe we can add them together, mix them up, and see if they taste good?" suggested Ludwig.

"Sounds fun, would you mind chopping the tomatoes then? They're in the cupboard; oh, and don't add the wet crap in the middle or they'll make everything soggy."

"No problem," and Ludwig obeyed her orders, getting to work chopping the tomatoes. It turns out that potatoes and tomatoes go well together and Ludwig and Florenza ate happily. Even Lovino tried some and, even though he claimed otherwise, quite liked it. When it was time for Ludwig to leave, he said goodbye to Florenza, hugged her and left, wishing he was brave enough to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Florenza's stage group consists of Sadik (Turkey), Antonio (Spain), Heracles (Greece), Kiku (Japan), Carlos (Cuba), Jan (Netherlands) and Marianne (Monaco).
> 
> And sorry to those who don't like Shakespeare, but I couldn't think of any other plays, apart from 'The Importance of being Ernest' by Oscar Wilde but that came out in the 1890s, and this is set in 1888 so I couldn't add it. Ah well.


	15. Nothing to lose

_1878, ten years ago_

…

Tino gulped as he stared at the bulky, imposing building before him, with its grey walls and barred windows. It was the one place he never wanted to be; the one place where he had no choice but to enter.

The workhouse.

It had been several weeks since his encounter with Berwald and Lars, and Tino had already sold the coat given to him; better to have done it early, so as not to get used to warmth, he'd told himself, _it'll only make things worse for yourself in the long run._

In the weeks after that night under the bridge, Tino had become even thinner and was almost too weak to walk, swaying as he stood in the street and too tired to shiver. His cheeks became hollow and his eyes, once full of determination and a will to fight, were sunken and full of hopelessness. He was thirsty too, and starving. Although the sun was out on that particular day, it was cold, and had been for weeks now; winter was coming, which meant it was almost fatal for anyone in his condition to be living on the streets in the next few months. Tino had been determined to survive the winter and had felt able to, until a couple of days ago.

But then things had gotten worse and worse for him and now Tino was left with only two options: enter the workhouse or die slowly and painfully. It went against everything he'd vowed when he was first made homeless, but at this moment in time, Tino couldn't care less. There was food and water in that building, shelter too, and it wasn't like he had a family to be separated from. He'd never be able to leave, but he'd be safe.

Tino briefly considered trying again on the outside, to see if things would get better, but feared that if he left now he would never have the physical strength to crawl back. Even at this very moment, if he fell over he'd probably never get [back up](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=15/#). No, if he wanted a chance of surviving, even a meaningless existence, he would have to go inside.

So, steeling himself, Tino raised a fist to knock on the door.

"T'no?" asked a voice behind him. Tino whirled round only to quickly glance at a familiar figure standing next to a wheelbarrow before passing out from hunger.

…

When Tino awoke he was lying under a pile of blankets on a small bed. It was warm and heavy, with little light entering a grubby window next to him. He stared up at the plaster ceiling, waiting for his vision to come into focus as he tried to remember what had happened, and where he was. Somewhere, he could hear a baby cooing and a low, gentle voice singing to it. He groaned as he tried to sit up but couldn't find the strength. A pair of warm hands lifted him up slowly so he was sitting, propped against a couple of limp, thin, pillows. He looked up to find Berwald gazing at him in concern, face exhausted and lined more than last time they'd met. He looked away and passed a slightly steaming bowl into Tino's hands. Tino looked down to see it was a bowl of warm broth, well, hot water and a few vegetables.

"What's this?" he asked, voice hushed and hoarse from disuse. His throat felt so dry, like moving his neck even slightly would cause it to crack and bleed.

"Food," replied Berwald simply, "eat up."

Tino didn't need to be told twice. He allowed Berwald to pick up a wooden spoon and feed him spoonful after spoonful of broth into his mouth, allowing him a minute or so after each mouthful for Tino to chew. It wasn't anything special, just vegetables in water, but for someone who couldn't remember the last time they'd had hot food, it was wonderful. Within what felt like a minute, the bowl was drained and Tino lay back happily.

"Thank you," he murmured. Berwald shrugged.

"I h'pe you feel better soon," he simply said.

"Yeah, me too," mumbled Tino, then he fell back into a deep sleep.

….

Tino wasn't sure of how long he slept, but he felt warm and refreshed after it. Once more waking up surrounded by the warmth and protection of blankets, he looked around to see where he was, sitting up in the bed.

He was being kept in a small room with stone walls and floor with a simple fireplace, fire blazing and spitting sparks in the hearth. In front of the fire, on a wooden stool, sat Berwald carefully carving a block of wood with a knife. He wore a simple shirt and trousers held up with braces; his face had a look of concentration on it. So focused he was on his work, that Berwald didn't notice Tino was finally awake. Tino looked around at the rest of the room. There was a small stove in one corner, a cradle containing a sleeping Lars in another and a pile of thin blankets on the floor in yet another corner. A [wooden work bench](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=15/#) stood next to a wall with little wooden objects and paint scattered across it.

"He-hello," croaked Tino, his raspy voice barely reaching the other's ears. Berwald jumped slightly and looked up.

"Ah, yer up. I'll make ya some soup," he said, standing up and moving over to the stove. Tino watched as he peeled a few carrots and potatoes, cutting them into manageable chunks and dropping them into a pot of slowly boiling water. When that was done, he stirred it with a wooden spoon and walked over to Tino, sat on the bed, and handed him a piece of raw carrot.

"Pre-dinner snack," he told him, giving a small, shy, smile. Tino took it happily and bit into the crunchy vegetable.

"Delicious," he said, smiling for the first time in a long while, "hey what happened exactly? The last thing I remember was standing in front of the workhouse, and you showed up then nothing! Until I woke up here and you gave me soup then I fell asleep again. I can remember bits… but not everything. How long was I asleep?"

"A few days," Berwald told him, bottom lip quivering slightly, "ye were really weak and I didn't kn'w if you would wake up at all. Saw ya outside the workhouse and called to ye, you turned around then passed out. So I picked you up and put ya in m' wheelbarrow, next to Lars and the toys, and took ya h'me. Gave you some water, but couldn't feed you properly til you woke up."

"Wow thanks," Tino whispered, "for… everything. Seriously, that was really nice of you, but why? You already helped me before. Why burden yourself with caring for a dying person and, at least I'm guessing you'll attempt to, nurse them back to health? Don't get me wrong; I'm grateful, I truly am, but… people just don't help people like that. Why did you? What do you want?"

Berwald thought for a moment before answering.

"Because yer the first person here to not ign're or shun me. I'm tall, look a little scary, and have an accent. People don't like me because of that. But you sat and talked and showed an int'rest in my life and kid and story; ya didn't tell me to go away. Even to this day yer the only person I've had a civil conversation with. And besides, ah couldn't just leave ya lying in the street to die! That's not what I do. And y'are kinda my friend and friends look out for each other. At least, I hope we are. Don't want to scare ya or 'nything…"

Tino nodded as he took all this in.

"No, it's fine, Berwald. I'm seriously the only person who talks to you?" he asked.

Berwald nodded.

"And we're friends?" asked Tino.

"Hopefully," mumbled Berwald, looking at Tino expectantly.

"Uh, sure, I guess so."

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments before Berwald got up to serve the soup. He poured some of the liquid into a bowl before taking a plate and some cold chicken from a cupboard then walked back over to the bed, handing the bowl to Tino, who tucked in. Berwald started eating the chicken, chewing silently, and Tino stared at him. Berwald noticed and shook his head.

"Not fer you," he said simply. Tino pouted; he liked chicken and hadn't eaten meat in months. Come to think of it, it could've been years.

"Why not?" he whined. Tino knew it sounded extremely rude, but he really wanted something fresher and more filling than water and vegetables.

"It'd be too much of a shock to yer system. You're malnourished and have to start with plain food b'fore working yer way up to richer foods. Otherwise it could make yer sick and maybe ev'n kill ya." Tino nodded glumly, and continued to eat his soup. Berwald smiled a little at the man.

"There's plenty of stew in the pot though," he said, "so ya can have second or third bowls, if ya can keep it down."

"Damn right I can keep it down," said Tino proudly, "I once ate a whole rat without being sick!"

"Was it a dare or-?"

"No I was just really hungry, and it wasn't too bad; tasted like chicken, but gross. Actually, I think it made me ill afterwards… oh well!"

Berwald put down the bit of chicken he was eating; he'd somehow lost his appetite. Tino laughed, and then broke down into a coughing fit.

"Sorry," he spluttered, "been breathing in too much smoke."

"Are ya okay?"

"Yeah, everyone has a cough; you will too if you hang around long enough. It's all those fumes from the factories and chimneys." Tino breathed deeply and leaned back against his pillows. Berwald watched his chest rise and fall steadily, praying it would continue to do so.

"So how did ya end up in front of the workhouse?" Berwald asked, looking at Tino in concern.

"It was that or die," mumbled Tino, avoiding Berwald's gaze, "I had nothing to lose, and nowhere else to go."

"Why didn't you try ta find me?" demanded Berwald, "I would have been happy ta help ya!"

"Please, Berwald, I have my pride, you know?" Tino gave a small cough before continuing, "and I wouldn't have known for certain you would help. And I don't like to beg people who have already been kind to me. So I thought I would go to the workhouse where people have to help you, if you can call what they do help. I'd be working for my keep, so it would not be like I was getting charity."

"I see," Berwald stood up to check on Lars, then took Tino's bowl, refilling it from the pot and handing it back to Tino.

"Is yer leg better?" he asked.

Tino nodded. "Yes, much better, thank you. You're a good doctor; I don't feel any pain, though there will be a scar, but hey, that's natural." Tino spoke in short sentences between mouthfuls. Berwald nodded along.

"M' sister taught me how to cure people, well, the basics anyhow," he responded.

"She must have been good at healing." Said Tino.

"She was," Berwald looked away, "guess we should go to sleep now." Tino nodded, then yawned.

"Probably," he agreed, "I'm still pretty tired, I haven't had much sleep for, well, most of my life, so now's a good time to catch up. Goodnight then."

"Go'dnight."

…

Tino remained bedridden for another week. Every morning Berwald would leave with a wheelbarrow full of simple toys and return in the evening having sold hardly any. Tino tried not to look at, or think about, the nearly full wheelbarrow sitting in the corner of the room each night, but instead busied himself with feeding and singing to Lars, whom Berwald had decided to leave with Tino instead of putting him in the bumpy, uncomfortable wheelbarrow all day, which he hated.

When Tino was finally strong enough to stand, after a few shaky attempts, he decided to spend his days cleaning the room and looking after Lars, gradually building up his strength. He started moving on to richer, more filling foods and his hollow cheeks and matchstick limbs began to fill out.

One day, when it was just him and Lars, Tino looked through the cluster of toys on a small workbench. He'd never really paid attention to what Berwald made; he was too busy trying to keep down each meal, which he still had trouble doing, and staying alive. But now he was curious as to what his roommate did for a living.

The table contained a few half-finished models and a collection of wooden animals, boats and dolls, as well as piles of wooden blocks that had yet to be carved. Tino picked one up and studied it closely. It was beautiful, so detailed and carefully crafted it looked professional; Tino guessed Berwald was some sort of professional. But the few toys that had already been painted were finished badly; the paintwork was sloppy and uneven and the colours didn't match each other. Tino sighed. No wonder no one bought them; the paint ruined their beauty. He glanced down at a small set of paints with brushes and wondered if he should have a go. Tino liked painting, and would do so at every opportunity when he was younger, which was not often, but enough to know that he loved doing it. Hoping Berwald wouldn't mind, Tino began to carefully paint a wooden train, staying within the lines and using complimenting colours, something Berwald really needed to work on.

He managed to paint a small army of toys before evening.

That night, Berwald came home, again having sold nothing, and sat down heavily on the bed, close to tears, though he tried to look as calm as possible in front of everyone. Tino gently placed Lars in his little cradle and sat down beside his friend.

"Don't understand," the man began, Tino wasn't sure whether Berwald was talking to him or himself, but listened anyway, "thought people would buy m'toys but they ignore me. Is my face really that scary?"

"Of course not," Tino assured him, "well... maybe; are your communication skills good enough to make up for it?"

Berwald shook his head.

"Mumble."

"I noticed."

"I'm a week behind on the rent," Berwald confessed, "the landlord's not pleased and has threatened to kick us out!"

"It usually takes a few weeks before that happens, trust me. Though he'll probably beat you up before kicking you out. I know that from experience." Tino thought for a moment, "hey maybe I could sell them with you. I look friendly, right? People might find me more approachable."

"S'good idea," agreed Berwald, "well tha's it then, tomorrow ya come with me, and I guess we would have to take Lars too. We cannot leave him here."

"Maybe his cuteness will attract more customers?"

"Maybe," agreed Berwald, then he stood up and walked over to his workbench and picked up a toy soldier, one that Tino had painted earlier.

"Hey did you do this?" he asked, glancing at Tino harshly.

"Yes," said Tino, wincing, "sorry."

"Don't be. Yer good at painting, this is better than anythin' I've ever done."

"Thank you," Tino gave a small smile.

"Ya don't suppose ya could do the painting from now on?" suggested Berwald, "it migh' make the models look more buyable."

"Yeah sure, no problem at all!"

"Guess this means we'll be business partners from now on, right? If you want…"

Tino thought about it. Running the business with Berwald meant he could stay. Of course, Berwald would want him to stay anyway, but Tino knew that, once he was well enough, he would have to leave. It would hurt Tino's pride too much to stay here, quietly and happily cleaning and looking after a child like some little wife. Doing that every day would kill him, more so than going back outside. He would miss Berwald and Lars, but it was for the best. He'd hate to be a burden, living off someone else's charity.

But this suggestion gave Tino an opportunity to stay, and be useful, as an equal. It would be a reasonably stable job in the company of his two favourite people, and doing the thing he loved to do most: painting.

"Yes, that sounds wonderful!" exclaimed Tino, "I've always wanted a job where I could paint. I've loved art ever since I was little."

"Really?" asked Berwald, "what were you like as a child? Did y'have siblings? What were your parents like?" Berwald looked away, embarrassed, "sorry for the questions, I just want to know about m'new partner."

"Hey it is fine," Tino assured him, "but, if you don't mind, I'm not too happy talking about my past. I find it painful. But I guess I can tell you I'm from Finland." Berwald opened his mouth to speak but Tino cut him off.

"It's that part of the Russian empire near Sweden."

"I know where Finland is."

"Oh, right, sorry," said Tino, "I'm just used to having to explain it to people. You're from Sweden right?"

"How could ya-"

"Your accent, and I've heard you speaking in Swedish to Lars. I can speak some myself. Not much though."

"Ah, I see."

The two adults began to make dinner, chicken stew, together whilst Lars sat on the floor by the fire, 'testing out' some of the new toys. Berwald always had an eye on him, and would move the child every time he went too close to the deadly flames.

Later that night, everyone grew tired and decided it was time for bed. Lars was tucked up in his little wooden cot, a present, Berwald had told Tino, for Lars' mother when he was born and hand crafted by Berwald himself. He'd taken it with him when he left Sweden to remind Lars of his real parents when he was older, and to remind Berwald of his dear sister. It was a beautiful little item with all sorts of animals carved into it and made from a dark brown wood. Tino rocked it from side to side as he sang a lullaby to the babe until he'd fallen asleep, thumb in mouth, clutching his blanket.

Meanwhile, Berwald was laying a pile of blankets on top of each other in the corner, ready for him to sleep in.

"Hey that looks uncomfortable," commented Tino, "why don't we just share the bed?"

Berwald's cheeks turned slightly pink, "would that be acceptable with you?" he asked.

"Of course, and it will be a lot warmer," said Tino, "and what with winter just around the corner, we all need to stay nice and toasty, huh?"

Berwald nodded slowly, "might be fun."

"Sure, hey maybe Lars could sleep in the bed too? Just for tonight, that is."

"Like a… family?"

"Just like a family." Tino smiled at the thought and climbed into bed; Berwald gently lifted up Lars and joined him. It was a bit cramped, but cosy.

"Mind you," mused Tino, "if you roll over in your sleep you'll kill us all."

"Not a restless sleeper," Berwald reassured him.

The next morning the three of them set out with a wheelbarrow full of newly painted playthings to sell. Berwald pushed the thing through streets whilst Tino called and shouted to attract the attention of passers by; being friendly, helpful and polite to any who stopped to take a look; and Lars, well, Lars just sat in Tino's arms looking adorable, if slightly grumpy. By the end of the day they'd managed to sell half the toys, more than Berwald alone could manage to sell in a week, and were feeling pretty pleased with themselves. They ate a large dinner and tucked Lars into his cot, then Tino and Berwald climbed into their own bed.

"Ya kn'w," mumbled Berwald before they fell asleep, "I do b'lieve you may have saved us all."

"We saved each other," replied Tino, eyes barely open, "now go to sleep."

Over the next few days, they managed to sell more and more toys, pay the rent, and buy a few nice things for themselves with the left over money. Tino bought a warm coat and scarf, plus a pair of sturdy boots. Berwald bought the equipment needed to make more complicated toys, and fine cloth for dolls. And Lars was given vaccinations to protect him from disease, which was not as fun, but a necessary luxury. They bought him a new set of clothes too, which he liked a bit more.

Their business slowly, bumpily, grew more and more successful and by the time Lars was six, they could afford to buy a house on a commercial street to turn into a shop. A year later, Peter Kirkland joined them and their family was complete.


	16. The cold wind blows

Things continued as normal for the residents of Berwald and Tino's toy shop during the next few weeks; they woke up, ate breakfast, worked all day, stopping for lunch, and fell asleep. Mathias' contagious joy attracted more and more customers and things were going smoothly and happily for them all.

In that time, five more people were found dead.

Their regular routine was interrupted one day by Tino's shouting early in the morning, waking up the whole house.

"GODDAMMIT ERIKUR!" he bellowed, "YOUR BRAINLESS PUFFIN HAS [CRAPPED](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=16/#) ALL OVER MY SHIRT."

He barged into Erikur, Peter and Lars' room and glared at the oldest boy, brandishing a soiled shirt. Erikur stared at the article with a mixture of boredom and guilt.

"I thought you said he was house trained and would do his business outside?"

"He is and does!" assured Erikur, "it was a one-time thing. It shan't happen again; no need to wake up the entire road."

"Oh but there is a need, Erikur," hissed Tino, his voice dangerously low, "because my shirt is now ruined thanks to that little [pest](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=16/#). I was planning on wearing that today. And if he does it again I shall sell him to the pie shop."

"Damn Tino you're the Sweeny Todd of puffins," joked Mathias, who was standing in the doorway with Berwald and Aleks, "but you won't be able to sell him to the pie shop," he added more seriously, "just read in the newspaper that the owner was found dead this morning."

"Your little friend got off lucky," Tino spat at Erikur, "but I better not find him fouling any more of my clothes."

"Yessir," squeaked Erikur. Berwald sighed, walked into the room and picked up Tino, slinging him over his shoulder. Tino made a series of inhuman noised and half heartedly beat his fists against Berwald's back.

"It'll wash out," he assured him, "now come downstairs and have some coffee. You need it." Mathias and Aleks were still in the doorway and Tino snarled at them, making the duo quickly move out of the way, staring at him nervously.

When Berwald had walked downstairs, Mathias let out a low whistle.

"[Crap](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=16/#)," he exclaimed, "Tino's scary when he hasn't had his coffee. I must remember to never piss him off in the mornings."

"Or you could just not piss anyone off at any time of the day," Aleks suggested, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"With the exception of Berwald?"

"No."

"You're mean," Mathias pouted. Aleks just shook his head and began to walk down the stairs.

"Come on," he sighed, "time for breakfast."

Peter and Lars, who'd been present the whole time, finally got out of their beds and looked at Erikur, who was still slightly shaken.

"Berwald bought him that shirt ages ago," Peter told him.

"That is probably why he was so upset," added Lars, "and he is not much of a morning person to begin with."

"I should make him a new one for Christmas," said Erikur, "maybe then he'll forgive Mr Puffin." At that moment, the bird in question flew into their room, causing Lars to give a small shriek (he'd never got used to the creature), and settled on Erikur's outstretched arm.

"What are we going to do with you?" Erikur cooed, "you don't [crap](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=16/#) on Uncle Tino's shirt, okay?"

The puffin squawked in response.

"You can make a shirt?" asked Lars.

"Oh I can make all sorts of things," Erikur told him, "clothes, toys, pillows; I'm good with a needle and tread. Who do you think makes those stuffed toys in the shop?"

"Those were made by you?" asked Peter in awe, "they're so sweet!"

"Thank you," Erikur smiled a little, "well, I guess we should go downstairs too before Mathias and Tino eat everything."

When the trio entered the kitchen, Tino had calmed down considerably and was slowly drinking from a steaming mug, a plate loaded with food in front of him. He nodded to the new arrivals and set his cup on the table.

"So Christmas is coming up," he said cheerfully, as if he hadn't just threatened to put Erikur's pet in a pie, "so you have to tell us what you want."

"A telephone," blurted Lars immediately, "so I can phone Franz. His family have one." Franz had visited their shop several times over the weeks and the two boys had struck up a friendship. Franz had even asked Lars if he wanted to go to the park with him tomorrow after school, with Franz's tutor keeping an eye on them.

"Yes but, telephones are too expensive," Tino told him, "and need electricity, which we do not have. I'm sorry, but I don't think that would be possible. Is there anything else you would like?"

"I can't think of anything," Lars replied, "but if I do, I will tell you."

"I want to see Arthur again," Peter spoke up, "he hasn't visited me in nearly a year now and I miss him."

"I'm sorry Peter," sighed Tino, "but I don't know when he will be back, but let us hope it is in time for Christmas." Peter's face fell, "but it has been a while since you last saw him, so he will probably show up. He usually pays a visit around this time anyways." Peter cheered up a little at this.

"Now go get dressed, the both of you, or you'll be late for school!" Tino exclaimed and the two boys took a bread roll each and ran upstairs. Berwald waited until they were gone then pulled out a stamped envelope. He took a letter out and showed it to Tino, whose face broke into a wide grin.

"What is it?" asked Mathias, Tino, still beaming, handed the letter to Mathias, whose face broke into a large grin, Aleks and Erikur, who read the letter over his shoulder, also had small smiles on their faces.

"Well what about that…" breathed Tino.

…..

Later in the day, Mathias and Tino popped into the bakery for lunch on their way to buy more cloth. Jemima greeted them cheerily and sat them at a small table, taking their orders, then going to the kitchen.

"So this year's Christmas I going to be fun, right?" asked Mathias.

Tino nodded, "oh yes, we always save up for a little tree and I've been collecting decorations for years now. It is going to be even better this year seeing as you're all here to enjoy it too."

"Sounds fantastic," said Mathias, "we usually have a big party Christmas Eve and close the pub the next day to open presents and go to church, then go home, sing and have a big dinner. But it will be nice to do something different this year."

"Hey, maybe we could have a Christmas party here," suggested Tino, "at the shop, come on, you, me, Berwald, Aleks, Erikur, Peter, Lars and we could invite William, Jemima and Charlotte too. And anyone else who wants to come."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Mathias, "but could we afford it?"

"I'm sure if everyone helps we can."

Jemima returned with two plates of muffins for them. Tino thanked her and paid; before she walked away Tino asked her if she wanted to come to a Christmas party.

"Sure, why not," she said, "but is it okay if Oscar, my son, comes too? He usually comes home around Christmas time."

"Of course! The more the merrier!" exclaimed Tino.

….

"But why do we have to go here, of all places?" whined Gilbert. Ludwig just rolled his eyes and ignored him, focusing his attention on Florenza instead. Gilbert was walking just behind them along the busy street, hands stuffed into his coat pockets and is shoulders hunched. The air was cold and crisp; a sure sign that winter was almost here.

"They do lovely cakes here," she explained, "I always buy them when I can." Today Florenza was wearing a thick coat over her dress and her hair was in a messy plait. Gilbert wondered if Ludwig had bought the coat for her; it did look new. Both men were wearing smart suits with top hats; due to their noble heritage they were allowed to wear them.

"But they are so rude there," he tried again; Ludwig looked at him closely.

"You were thrown out of there, weren't you?"

"Maybe," Gilbert pouted, "but I was drunk at the time so it wasn't my doing. And I was upset about Elizabeta…"

Ludwig groaned loudly. "You always do this!" he exclaimed, "why can you not just stop causing problems for everyone?"

"Hey I am trying, okay?" snapped Gilbert, "you have no idea what I do, how I try, so shut up."

Ludwig sighed, "I will try to talk to the management at this place, and see if they will let you in."

"Don't you have to be wearing your uniform to do that?" Gilbert frowned.

"I meant talk to them nicely and civilly, not throw my weight around," Ludwig shot back, "now please, this is my first day off in weeks so don't ruin it for me."

"Of course, brother dearest, I would never do anything to ruin your day," said Gilbert innocently. Ludwig scoffed, though the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and turned to Florenza.

"This is the place," she told them, and entered the bakery. The little bell over the door tinkled and Florenza smiled at the shop's warmth, taking a long sniff of fresh bread and cakes. Ludwig and Gilbert followed her in. At once they were greeted by William's irate shouts.

"You! Get out!" he pointed angrily at Gilbert, "I thought I told you to not come back here!"

Gilbert shrank back but Ludwig stepped forward.

"Please, forgive him for what he did, I'm sure he didn't mean it, whatever he did, and he is very sorry," he looked at William pleadingly, "let us stay, bitte? What did he do anyway?"

"He insulted my wife," William growled, "and women in general."

Florenza glared at Gilbert and Ludwig groaned.

"I'm so sorry about that," Gilbert said, "please forgive me, I was intoxicated and did not know what I was saying. I'm not like that normally."

William sighed, "fine, but don't let it happen again." His face broke into a polite, welcoming smile, "so what can I get you all?"

"A table and three cakes," Florenza told him, "and thank you."

"No problem," he said, and directed them to a small table in the corner, "my wife will bring you your food in a minute."

…

Tino got up to talk to William at the counter; Mathias followed behind.

"So did Jemima tell you about the party?" he asked.

William nodded, "yes it sounds exciting and I cannot wait. It will be nice to relax after a long year, and when Oscar gets home, it will be the first time the whole family is together, including the new children. Hey, I've been meaning to mention to you. We bought a sheep a few days ago."

"Why?" asked Tino, "where do you put it? And what use is it?"

"She's in the garden," said William, pointing behind him.

"She?" questioned Mathias.

"Yes, she," said William firmly, "I called her Fiona, and was planning on selling you the wool in the spring, but if you're going to be like that…"

"Fine," sighed Tino, "I am sure Fiona is a lovely sheep and a wonderful addition to your eccentric family. Now will you please let us buy the wool?"

William laughed, "yes of course. There's nothing weird about a pet sheep, by the way. I mean, she is just a bigger version of what you have!"

"We have a dog," Tino pointed out.

"Yes but she looks like a little sheep."

"How? Hanna does not have hoofs, neither does she bleat; she barks instead."

"But she's small and woolly!" William tried again.

Tino was about to reply, when he heard shouts coming from behind him. He and Mathias wheeled round to find Jemima and Florenza in a heated argument Florenza gesturing wildly whilst Jemima stood with her arms folded. Both women were shouting fiercely at each other.

"Now don't go insulting me like that!" exclaimed Jemima, "nothing wrong with what I do, better than the silly job _you_ have!"

"Hey! I'm an actress, _flour bitch_!"

"Oh please," spat Jemima, "we all know what 'actress' is a euphemism for!"

Florenza growled and, before anyone could react, she punched Jemima square in the nose. The baker stared in shock for a few seconds before replying by punching Florenza in the eye. Then the two ladies started throwing punch after punch at each other, pulling hair and dresses as they did so. William gasped and leapt over the counter to break up the fight, Tino and Mathias joining him.

Ludwig looked helplessly at the pair and turned to Gilbert.

"We should stop them!" he cried.

"Why?" asked Gilbert, smirking, "this is so entertaining! Still, if you're going to break it up, then there's no point in me sticking around." He scoffed, "and you thought _I_ would ruin your day." Then he ate the last mouthful of his cake and left. Ludwig groaned, again, and went to help William. He and Mathias grabbed Florenza whilst William and Tino took hold of Jemima. The two women still snarled and spat abuse at each other, but eventually calmed down enough to talk.

"What was that all about dearest?" asked William nervously.

"She insulted my profession!" hissed Jemima.

"And she mine!" retorted Florenza. William looked pleadingly at Ludwig.

"How did this start?" he asked him.

"I don't know, one minute they were friendly and the next… I think Gilbert said something, then Jemima said something and they just…" he explained. William and Tino let go of Jemima's arms, deciding she was calmed down enough, Ludwig and Mathias did the same to Florenza. Jemima chuckled lightly.

"To be honest, I can't remember how it started either," she joked.

"Same with me," admitted Florenza, scratching the back of her head, "I just suddenly felt so angry. Forgive and forget?" she asked, extending an arm.

"Why not?" Jemima took Florenza's hand and shook it. William breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's good," he said, "thank goodness you've made up." He looked from Ludwig to Florenza, "you both seem lovely, and I'd hate to have to throw you out."

"Yeah, we'd hate to be kicked out," replied Florenza, "you do nice food." Jemima laughed at this.

"Well how about you stick around for more then?" she asked, placing an arm on Florenza's shoulder, who shook her head.

"I'm tempted, but it is getting late and I have to get ready for work."

"Ah yes, the actress thing…"

"Yes, the actress thing," Florenza glared at Jemima, then she and Ludwig said their goodbyes and left.

Tino took out his pocket watch and gave a small cry.

"Hey Mathias we should be on our way too!" he exclaimed, "just look at the time! We were supposed to be back ten minutes ago! Berwald will have a fit if he finds out we're late. You know how easily he worries about us all."

"He worries about you," Mathias pointed out, "I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind if I died tomorrow."

"Ah, I'm certain that is not true," Tino reasoned.

"What is your relationship with Berwald anyway?" asked William, "you seem very close; I'm just curious."

"We're best friends and business partners," stated Tino, "I thought you already knew that."

"Yes but is that the whole truth?" asked Jemima, looking at him strangely.

"Of course," assured Tino, "what is all this about?"

"Oh nothing," said William innocently, "we just wanted to know why you do not have a wife."

"Huh? But that has nothing to do with what you were saying before. And if you must know, my only loves are my work and my family."

"And what about Berwald?" demanded Mathias, giving a sly grin and raising his eyebrows.

"What about him?" asked Tino.

"Do you love him?" asked Jemima.

"Of course!" exclaimed Tino, "he is my best friend."

"Nothing more?" asked Jemima slyly.

"What do you mean? I don't understand." Tino groaned, rolling his eyes, "don't the pair of you have cakes to bake? Customers to serve and all that. Now if you excuse me, I have my own business to attend to." And with that, Tino turned and left. Mathias shrugged.

"We tried," he said simply, and followed Tino outside. William and Jemima began to serve customers, not believing a word Tino had said.

One man stood up and thanked Jemima for the cake he just ate.

"Ah that's no problem at all," she said, "glad you enjoyed it so."

"Yes it was very delectable," he told her, taking a cigarette out of a silver case and lighting it with a match.

"Please come again Mr Edelstein," replied Jemima.

"Oh I will," said Roderich. Then he left, waving politely.

….

"Ow! Stop poking me with that thing!" grumbled Florenza, swatting the cloth in Ludwig's hand. They were standing under an arch near where Florenza lived. There were a few people walking past but didn't pay them much attention.

"Please hold still," he pleaded, "I promise, this ointment will help. It helps me every time someone hits me." Florenza sighed, but dropped her hand, allowing Ludwig to wipe the skin around her eye, where a large bruise was forming. She hissed through her teeth every time it touched the purple flesh.

"Sadik is not going to be happy with this," she complained, "his lead female performer with a black eye. Still, a little make up will sort me out no problem."

"You still look beautiful." He told her, "you always do."

"Well thank you," said Florenza, smiling a little, "and you always look very handsome."

Ludwig stopped wiping her face and looked into her eyes. They always seemed fierce to him, full of passion. That was one of the things he loved about her. He stroked the side of her face with no bruise, gently pushing her hair out of her face with his thumb. Before he could stop himself, Ludwig kissed her. Her lips tasted sweet and Ludwig was partially aware that she was kissing him back, but then he realised fully what he was doing, and pulled away.

"I'm so sorry," he spluttered, "I don't know what came over me and-" he was cut off by Florenza leaning on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

"Hey Ludwig," she whispered, lips against his ear "ti amo."

Ludwig smiled, and pulled her into a hug.

"Ich liebe dich, Florenza."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Bitte- means please in German (can also be used as 'you're welcome, if I recall correctly)
> 
> Ti amo- I love you
> 
> Ich liebe dich- I love you


	17. Rosary

Lovino clutched the rosary beads in his hand and muttered a prayer to himself. He did that a lot nowadays. Every day, in fact. He prayed for his little brother and sister's health, he prayed for a proper job, enough food to keep them from starving and he prayed his grandfather would always watch over them from heaven. They had been really close when Lovino was younger, and it was his grandfather that had given him the rosary beads, his most prized possession. He would take Lovino fishing and tell him stories about what he did when he was Lovino's age. Their grandfather didn't live long enough to see Salvatorio but Florenza was his special little princess. Lovino always suspected that she was his favourite grandchild. Why wouldn't she be? Florenza she beautiful, sweet, kind and didn't swear in nearly every sentence, unlike Lovino. Florenza had a job; even Salvatorio had a job cleaning horse manure off the streets and selling it, just until he was old enough for a proper job. But Lovino spent all of his days indoors, only going out to work in a soup kitchen feeding the homeless every Saturday morning. He didn't [get paid for](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=17/#) it, but liked it anyway. That was what he wanted to do, spend his days cooking for people. He'd prefer to do it in a fancy restaurant where his talents could be properly appreciated, but, in all honesty, wasn't too fussed. Except all he did was sit in front of the fire mourning his grandfather's death. It had been a good few years now, but Lovino still couldn't accept that the cheery old man he adored was never coming back. That was why he moved to London in the first place, to get away from the memories. Shame it didn't work.

Once again, he never noticed his sister return home until she greeted him, friendly and merry as usual.

"I assume you were seeing the blue bastard again today?" he said dryly.

"Would you stop calling him that; his name is Ludwig Beilschmidt," she snapped.

It was then he noticed the bruise on her face.

"That asshole's been beating you!" he cried, "just you wait til I find him." He stood to get up, "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Lovino! Stop!" exclaimed Florenza, "it was not Ludwig! I got into a fight with another woman. You can't say anything because I threw the first punch." Lovino stopped, sighed, and looked at his sister.

"Did you hit her harder that she hit you?"

"Of course!"

"That's my girl," he gave her a hug and they sat down in an [armchair](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=17/#) each.

"Is Salvatorio home yet?" she asked. Lovino shook his head and put the rosary beads back around his neck, tucking them into his shirt.

"Not yet, but I'm sure he'll be finished soon," he answered,

"Hey I'm going to have a bath, okay?" said Florenza. Lovino grunted in response and she got up and left.

Lovino sank back in his chair and gazed unfocused into the fire, not really thinking about anything in particular, mind numb and empty.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in Sal," he called. Another knock.

Lovino sighed and got up, walking across the room to open the door. He was greeted by a smiling, slightly tanned, gentleman with brown hair and green eyes.

"Hey you're not Sal," he said dumbly.

The other man laughed.

"No, sorry, I am Antonio," he replied, "Florenza's friend. I came to give her the script for a few days' time, her lines for Juliet and all." So he was one of Florenza's actor friends.

"Oh I see," said Lovino, "well she's in the bath now but I can give her the script. So bye then."

Antonio's face fell.

"Can't I wait for her?" he asked.

"Why?" demanded Lovino, suspicious. Antonio shrugged.

"Just want to talk to you a bit," he mumbled, "you seem nice." Lovino scoffed, but let him in anyway. Antonio made himself comfortable in an [armchair](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=17/#) whilst Lovino stood staring at him. He didn't know how to entertain guests. The last time a stranger entered their flat he'd immediately yelled at them and tried to kick them out. He hoped he wouldn't have to do the same with Antonio.

"So why do you want to wait for my sister? Do you like her?" he questioned.

"Yes she is like an adorable little sister, same with Marianne, our other actress. I'm very fond of them both. Don't worry, Mister Vargas, I'm looking out for your sister."

"But do you have feelings for her?" he pressed.

"I feel that she is sweet and funny, is that what you mean?"

"No-err never mind." Lovino sighed and sat down. So this man probably wasn't chasing his sister's affections. Lovino was glad; one fool in love with Florenza was bad enough, two would be really irritating. Just then Salvatorio entered, covered in muck.

"Hey what happened to you, little fella?" asked Antonio in shock, giving a friendly smile at the teen.

"I fell over at work," bleated Sal, "and now I'm covered in filth and it stinks and get it off me Lovino! How am I supposed to talk to cute girls looking and smelling like this? No wonder that pretty girl at the bakery does not like me and hangs out with those other boys!"

"Just leave your dirty clothes in the kitchen, I will wash them tomorrow, and go have a bath, Florenza is using the tub at the moment but she will be out soon! And dammit stop whining!"

Sal nodded, giving a sniff, and walked into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Lovino turned back to Antonio.

"Hey do you want to go to a public house and drink, and maybe pull some birds?" he asked. Antonio blinked in shock.

"You mean like pigeons? Would that not hurt them?"

"Get out."

Antonio blinked in surprise, a hurt expression on his face.

"You heard me, get out!"

"If that is what you want," mumbled Antonio, standing up to leave. Lovino sighed and rested his hand on Antonio's arm.

"Please stay," he whispered, "I'm sorry, not used to talking to strangers."

"Hey that's fine," Antonio give him a reassuring smile.

Lovino almost smiled back, "what I meant was, do you want to go out and get some girls," he said.

Antonio shook his head, "I do not care for girls."

"Really?" asked Lovino, "a good-looking fella like you?"

"I only care about being a good actor and making money for my family. As does my little brother Carlos."

"Carlos is your brother?" asked Lovino, "but he does not look anything like you, no offense!"

"Well I was born in the north of Spain, as were my older siblings. Then my parents moved to Cuba, which is where my younger siblings were born and live now. I moved to London when I was young, after spending a few years in France, whilst Carlos spent most of his life in Cuba and moved over recently, so that is why we look so different, if you want to know. We had different upbringings. And he likes to grow his hair long, plus he is stronger than me and likes to have a beard. We are pretty different people.'

"Well I'm sure you get along anyhow."

Antonio nodded, "of course, he is my best friend. We help each other with our lines and props and stuff. Took ages to get used to each other though, since the fist time I saw him was when he moved here."

"All you actors sound like one big happy family," commented Lovino, a little bitterly.

"We all care a lot about each other, si, and Sadik is like a dad to all of us, protecting and helping us." He looked at Lovino for a moment, "hey maybe you could become an actor too! We are always short of people to play parts and it might be fun for you."

Lovino was genuinely interested in this. "Hey that does not sound like a bad idea at all. You're pretty smart, Antonio. You know, at first I thought you were a bit of a stupid bastard but you're kind of okay."

"I am guessing you are the sort of person who says that and means it as a compliment, right?" Antonio chuckled, and then his face fell, "you know, a lot of people call me a stupid bastard, is that how I really seem to people?"

"Well, you don't always seem to understand what I say but, you are smart, in your own way. Don't listen to those other assholes, they don't know you!"

"Thanks Lovi," Antonio smiled.

"Hey only my siblings can call me that!"

"Sorry," Antonio's face fell again. Lovino sighed.

"But I guess I can make an exception for you…"

"Aw, thanks very much, you're the best! Tell you what," said Antonio, "you can call me Toni, okay? Then we can both have nicknames!"

"Sounds good."

Florenza entered the room and Antonio handed her the script.

"Finally, my Romeo and Juliet lines!" she exclaimed, "but Sadik hasn't given me much time to learn them, has he?"

"We all only got them today," explained Antonio, "he was busy, apparently, but I am sure we can all manage."

"Ah well. Thank you." Florenza left the room.

"Hey, Toni, how about we don't go to get girls, but just go for drinks," suggested Lovino.

"Hmm, that sounds fun," agreed Antonio, "and it is not like I have work tonight. Sure, why not?"

Lovino's face broke into a rare smile, "great, I'll get my coat, but do you know any good public houses? I don't get out much."

"Well yes I know this little one a few roads away…"

"That sounds fine," Lovino told Florenza they were leaving and the two men walked out the door.

….

Florenza was sitting in an armchair next to the fire, drawing. Her grandfather taught her to draw and Florenza loved it so much she drew everything that caught her fancy. The sketchbook she used was full of drawings of her brothers, fellow actors, the fire, the chairs, flowers- especially daisies- and their flat. More recently, sketches of Ludwig made their way into the usual bunch and at this moment she was drawing him walking her home from a performance. Their arms were linked and she drew Ludwig with that same awkward facial expression he always wore around her, like he didn't know what to say; he was wearing his blue police uniform and she was in a pretty dress. She drew and shaded in the dingy street they had been walking in at the time, only lightly shading the two figures, so they would stand out. Florenza beamed proudly at her work.

"Hey Sal," she said to the adolescent boy in the chair next to her, "do you think Mrs Florenza Beilschmidt would suit me?"

"Of course, Florrie, though no surname is as nice as Vargas but I guess you will get married eventually so Beilschmidt would have to do," Salvatorio answered, waving a hand.

Florenza laughed, "thank you Sal." Her little brother smiled.

"I assume you were referring to your intentions to marry the policeman some day in the future, am I right?"

"Maybe," Florenza looked away and blushed.

"Can I ask you something too?" Salvatorio didn't wait for an answer, "do you think Mrs Charlotte Vargas is a good name?"

Florenza shook her head, "sorry Sal, that doesn't seem to suit." Salvatorio just shrugged.

"Hey that dinner you cooked tonight was wonderful, could you teach me how to make it sometime?" he said, changing the subject.

"Of course, no problem at all."

"It is a shame that Lovi was not around to try it."

"I know Sal, but it is nice that he is out with a friend for once. I am so worried about him; all he does is stay inside and mumble to himself."

"Yes it was really scary," agreed Salvatorio.

"But he might get better now," added Florenza.

"Let us hope so."

Just then a frantic knocking interrupted their talking, Florenza sighed, closing her sketchbook.

"Oh there he is; Lovi's probably too drunk to realise it is not locked," she raised her voice, "open the door Lovino, no need to knock."

More knocking.

Florenza sighed and got up to open the door.

"Seriously Lovino all you need to do is open it-"

"Help! Florenza! Get help! I don't know what to do! But Antonio is bleeding and I cannot stop it!" came the panicked reply.


	18. Luck and misery

Lovino stood in the doorway supporting a half-conscious, bloody Antonio; Florenza gasped and stepped aside to let them in. Lovino half carried, half led Antonio and laid him on a small bed in the corner of their room, looking like he would throw up at any given second. His hands shook as he tried to support his friend.

"Florenza, Sal, get the _Quacks_ , and the _Peelers_ too," he said urgently.

Florenza nodded and ran out of the room, beckoning Salvatorio to follow her.

"Doctor Wang only lives a few doors down," she told her little [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=18/#) as the pair darted down the stairs and out onto the street. Salvatorio nodded and ran ahead.

Lovino turned back to Antonio, who was lying scarily still, pale but breathing. Blood was slowly seeping through his shirt from the large gash above his pelvis, and Lovino found that he could not bear to look at it.

"This is all my fault," he whispered, "please don't die." His eyes pricked with the beginnings of tears, and he hurried to wipe them away. A lump caught in his throat and he let out a pained sob.

He got no response.

A few minutes later, Salvatorio returned with the doctor, a short, serious-looking man whose dark brown hair was tied into a messy ponytail. He ran to Antonio, kneeled next to him and lifted his shirt to reveal a knife wound on his side. It was jagged, flesh torn haphazardly and leaking lumpy, thick blood. Salvatorio gasped and looked away, retreating to the other side of the room and covering his mouth. His face took on a sickly green tinge.

"Well it does not look very deep," Dr Wang told them, "so his organs and bones are fine but he is losing a lot of blood. I will [clean](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=18/#) the wound then stitch it up when the bleeding stops."

"Thank you, doctor," said Lovino, realising that a few tears had escaped. He made no effort to hide them.

It was then that Florenza returned with Ludwig and a second policeman: a blond, youngish man with glasses.

"Florenza told us your friend was attacked," said Ludwig, "but what exactly happened? Please, we need to know right away before you forget."

"Right, of course," somehow through his shock, Lovino stood up and walked over to the three, leaving Dr Wang to poke and prod at Antonio, patching him up the best he could, "well I- I can't remember much… we were out drinking, Toni said something about going outside for air and a cigarette… then a few minutes later everyone heard yelling and… I ran outside and he was leaning against a wall and there was blood and… and… who do you think did it?" he asked. Ludwig didn't answer immediately, but instead wrote what Lovino had told him in his little notebook. Only when he had finished, did he answer.

"We cannot know for sure until Mr Fernandez Carriedo regains consciousness. Could you tell us what sort of injury your friend has sustained?" he inquired.

"Well, a stab wound, I think, but, not like a stab, more like someone dragged a knife through him… like a slash. Dr Wang said it is not very deep though."

"I see," Ludwig wrote that down too, "well it is likely that Mr Fernandez Carriedo is the latest victim in this wave of murders; all of the previous victims were killed by being slashed with a knife, usually in the torso or abdomen. The wounds were messy, so the killer is unlikely to have a significant knowledge of anatomy, but a good one of weapons. We will need to examine the wound before it's stitched up too. It is most likely that your friend was aware enough to move out of the way of the knife, or whatever this person is using to slaughter. If he pulls through, he will be a very lucky human being."

Lovino took all of this in; so someone wanted Antonio dead? But who? Was it something the man himself had done, or just because he was standing outside, alone and drunk and a very easy target, at night?

"Can you think of any motive for why someone would have wanted Mr Fernandez Carriedo dead?" Ludwig asked Florenza, who shook her head.

"He never seemed like the sort of person to go around making enemies. And if he was, he hid it well," she told him, "I truly cannot think of anyone who has said a word against Antonio." She looked Ludwig in [the eye](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=18/#) as she said that; he found he could not hold his gaze, so looked away.

"His wound is in a strange place," commented the other policeman, who had bent down to look at Antonio.

"Don't touch him!" cried Lovino, shaking.

"I had no intention of doing so," said the policeman, "I was merely making an observation; collecting evidence, so I can find out whoever did this. I mean your friend no harm."

"Thank you, Eduard," said Ludwig, "but what do you mean by 'a strange place'?"

"Well," began Eduard, "it is on his side, and not deep; in fact, it looks like quick swipe, not the long, devastating stabs the others had."

"So it is not the same person?" asked Lovino.

"No, it was them all right. The injuries were made by the same knife, I can tell that much. It seems like your friend here jumped out of the way just in time."

"I see," Ludwig wrote all of this down.

"So will he be fine?" Lovino asked Dr Wang, who nodded.

"Most likely," came the reply; Dr Wang stood up, smiling slightly, "I have stitched him up now, so hopefully he will be fine. Make sure he eats plenty of sugary foods to regain his strength and the blood he has lost."

"I will try, doctor," said Lovino, "but sugar is expensive, so we cannot afford it."

"Well, fruit will suffice."

"Thank you, doctor."

Dr Wang smiled kindly at him. Lovino almost smiled back. The man seemed like a pleasant person, despite the horrors he must have seen as a doctor; it made Lovino feel he could trust him to heal Antonio successfully.

"Here is your bill," he said, handing him a piece of paper, smiling the same smile.

 _Forget the previous thoughts; Dr Wang is evil_ , thought Lovino as he stared at the figures.

"How can we afford that?!" he exclaimed, "have you not _seen_ where we live?"

"Apologies, sir, but we all have to make a living," stated Dr Wang earnestly, "truly I am sorry."

"I have some money," interrupted Florenza, "been saving for an emergency." She darted into the other room and came running back with a small bag of coins.

"I think this will be enough sir," she told Dr Wang, who emptied the coins onto his hand and counted them.

"You are four farthings short," he informed her. Florenza sighed.

"Well I have no more money."

"Here," Ludwig fished inside his pocket for the money, "allow me." He handed four small coins to Dr Wang.

"Thank you sir, your friend will make a full recovery, if there are any problems, you know where to find me." Then he picked up his bag and left.

"That horrible little-"

"Lovi! He is just trying to make a living; we all are," growled Florenza. Then she turned to Ludwig.

"Thank you for helping us pay the doctor," she told him. Ludwig looked away, embarrassed.

"Why would I not? It was the right thing to do."

"Well thank you anyway."

"Yeah… that… was a nice thing to do… blue bastard," joked Lovino, though his voice was hoarse and shaking.

"Oy," replied Ludwig, pointing a finger in Lovino's direction, "watch it, you."

"Yeah, yeah…"

They heard a groan from the corner and turned to see Antonio slowly stirring, confused and feeble.

"He is waking!" cried Eduard in a loud, excited whisper, leaning closer towards the victim.

"We can see that," replied Lovino, rushing to Antonio's side. The man in question was groaning and slowly opening his eyes, looking around blearily.

"Whe-where am I?" he mumbled, trying to sit up but the pain sent him back into a laying position, "what happened?"

"Do you not remember?" asked Lovino, raising an eyebrow.

"I remember laughing and drinking, with you, I think, then I went outside for some air and I was standing there smoking and… OH GOD SOMEONE STABBED ME!" he sat up straight, again, wincing for a second time in ten seconds.

"My side hurts… so bad," he whimpered, lifting his shirt to see a line of neat, minute, stitches across his abdomen, "and my head hurts too… everything is so loud, and bright."

"So you have sobered up, at least," said Florenza dryly, "I will get you some water; there is a pump down the road."

Ludwig frowned.

"It is not safe for anyone to walk around at night alone," he said, "please take someone with you. Should I go too?"

Florenza shook her head.

"You are needed here, you too Lovi," she added as Lovino opened his mouth to speak, "Sal will come with me." Salvatorio, who had been very quiet up until now- as he wasn't used to injury or blood- nodded, picked up a bucket and followed Florenza out of the door. Ludwig bit his lip nervously.

"She will be fine," Antonio reassured him, "Florenza is one hell of a fighter. I heard she started a fight in a bakery today."

"How did you know-?"

"Word spreads fast here," Antonio informed him, "Jan told me. He was there when it happened, buying a cake for his sister or something. Carlos and I share a rented room with Jan and his little sister Eva," he added, "Luca used to live with us too, before, you know..."

"Back to the matter at hand," interrupted Eduard, "we are here to investigate a crime and need to ask you a few questions, Mr, err, Fernandez Carriedo."

"Please, call me Antonio."

"Very well, Antonio, where were you attacked?" questioned Eduard.

"Outside the Red Ruby public house, right Lovi? That was where we went?" Antonio screwed up his face as he tried to remember.

"Yes it was," Lovino confirmed.

"And when did the incident occur?" continued Eduard as Ludwig wrote down the details in his notebook.

"Roughly an hour ago," Lovino filled in before Antonio could say he didn't know.

"And can you remember the details of the incident?"

Antonio shrugged, "I cannot remember much, it is all so fuzzy, give me a moment." He closed his eyes, trying to remember. "My head was spinning… I leaned against a wall to stop myself falling over… I think, they attacked… from behind…"

"How cowardly," sniffed Ludwig, Eduard and Lovino nodded in agreement.

"…and I remember hearing foot steps… and there was a flash of silver… I think I jumped out of the way because… next thing I knew I was facing them…"

"Did you see their face clearly?" asked Ludwig, still scribbling in his notebook. Antonio was not completely sober. His words were still slurred, and his eyes unfocused. The policeman knew he would remember less once he sobered up, so was desperate to get as much information out of him now as he could.

Antonio screwed his face up again as he thought.

"I…"

"Yes?"

"I err…"

"You what?"

"I cannot remember."

Everyone in the room groaned in disappointment.

It was then that Florenza and Salvatorio returned carrying a bucket of water between them; Florenza picked up a chipped cup from a rickety wooden dining table in another corner and filled it from the bucket, and then handed it to Antonio, who gave thanks before drinking it eagerly. When it was empty, Florenza took it and filled the cup again, and once more Antonio drained it.

"I remember now," he breathed, setting the cup down on the floor next him, starting, glassy-eyed, at the wall opposite him.

"And?" asked Eduard, Ludwig and Lovino at the same time.

"They wore a hooded cloak that they pulled over their face when I turned around. They turned and ran and that is the last thing I remember. Everything went red after that."

"I see," said Ludwig, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice, "well at least we know how the killer attacks and that he or she is disguised whilst doing it. That is something."

"You know," commented Eduard, "you're a very lucky man, Antonio."

Antonio's face broke into a wide grin, "well, that will be a first," he said.

"You should get some rest," Lovino told him suddenly.

"You too Sal," added Florenza, "go on. Bed. Now."

Salvatorio grumbled to himself but begrudgingly climbed into his own bed. He couldn't help but feel relieved though; all this talk of murder and blood was very upsetting for him.

"Well I think that is all for now, right, Ludwig?" said Eduard, turning to his partner.

"Yes, of course," came the reply, "well, Antonio, if you can remember anything else to help us, then please contact us."

"Sure, no problem. I would be happy to help," assured Antonio.

Eduard thanked him and left, Ludwig following behind. Florenza turned to her brother.

"I am just going to talk to Ludwig quickly, shan't be long."

Lovino just nodded, not taking his eyes off of Antonio as he stroked the other's hair, tears streaming steadily down his face now, eyes red and blotchy. Florenza walked outside and stood at the top of the stairs; Ludwig and Eduard were already about to open the front door when she called to him.

"Ludwig, can I talk to you for a moment, please?" she said. Ludwig looked to Eduard, who nodded and left. The policeman made his way up the stairs, the old floorboards creaking eerily under his heavy boots.

"What is it?" he asked nervously.

Florenza folded her arms and looked him dead in the eye.

"I lied when I said I never heard anyone badmouth Antonio," she said simply.

"I know."

"I know you know," she snapped, "and you know who badmouthed him?"

"I have a feeling you are going to tell me…"

"You!" Florenza spat, "and you are the only person I know who has a problem with the guy. And that makes me think."

"And what do you think?" though Ludwig already knew the answer.

"That you were pretty close to where Toni was attacked tonight. I found you easily, like you were waiting for me to, so you could see what Antonio could remember of his attack. And I know you're jealous and feel threatened by him."

"I would never hurt your friend," Ludwig insisted, voice barely more than a whisper.

"How do I know? How do I know you didn't attack him, and those other people? How do I know you don't have a dark side? Is that shy, awkward policeman who hates his job the real you? Or are you only yourself when you viciously murder others?" Florenza glared at him.

Ludwig blinked, clearly hurt.

"But… I would never do that," he whispered, "you have to believe me. Killing Antonio would never solve my problems. It would just make you hate me. Besides, you're standing here. Alone. With a person you believe to be a murderer. If I truly was a killer, do you not think I would have silenced you by now?"

"I… err…" Florenza backed away, realising what he meant, "you wouldn't! My brothers are only in the next room, they would hear you…"

"I am not going to hurt you," Ludwig told her, "I love you, and I am not a killer. You have to believe me when I say I never hurt anyone! Besides, despite my complaining, I do take my job as a law enforcer seriously. It would go against everything I stand for if I hurt innocent people." Florenza still didn't look convinced. Ludwig sighed and began to walk back down the stairs.

"I _will_ prove my innocence," he assured her as he opened the front door.

Once he was outside, Ludwig wanted to break down and cry.

Of course, he never did.

…

Everyone was asleep except for Lovino. He could hear them breathing peacefully in their beds, probably dreaming of pleasant things. Florenza and Salvatorio were curled up in their shared bed, whilst Antonio was in Lovino's. They had forced him to stay the night to give him some time to recover. Of course, it could be a few weeks before he was performing again but he would pull through and that was all that mattered to the siblings. Lovino himself was lying under a few thin blankets on the floor. Not that he minded; he hardly got decent nights' sleeps anyway, and it was not much more uncomfortable than the old, lumpy bed. Still, at least older man had a bed. Though he usually shared with Sal, but Antonio's presence meant the youngest had to sleep with Florenza, not that Sal minded either. He liked sharing beds as he got to cuddle whoever else was in it.

Lovino envied his little siblings' abilities to just meet people and be nice to them. He knew he wasn't like that, he always said the wrong things, and wondered if that was why he was alone, apart from his siblings, of course. Maybe if he could face looking for a job, he could meet new people. It didn't help that he thought he was better than most of the city too. He hated himself, but he hated others more.

There was Antonio, and Lovino wondered if the green-eyed man considered them having a possible friendship. He seemed to think of everyone as his friend but there was always that part of Lovino that told him Antonio would be willing to make an exception for him. He wasn't too surprised though; Lovino knew he could be a horrible person sometimes. He seemed to have worse people skills than his sister's boyfriend, and that was saying something.

No wonder his grandfather had preferred Florenza.

He couldn't help it, but Lovino felt warm, salty tears trickling down his face again. He didn't have the strength to wipe them away and let them slide over his flushed, blotchy cheeks, occasionally giving a feeble sniff.

"Hey, are you alright?" came a husky voice. He'd woken Antonio.

"M'fine," he mumbled, looking away from the bed next to him.

"You are crying," Antonio pointed out.

"I am not," growled Lovino, "my brain just melted through my eyes trying to figure out why you're so stupid." He immediately regretted saying that.

"That hurt, Lovino," muttered Toni; "I thought you were the one person I could trust to not call me that."

"I know," muttered Lovino, "apologies; I am just not used to people seeing me cry."

"So you _are_ crying!"

"Shhhhh," hissed Lovino, "keep your voice down."

"Sorry."

"And I cannot tell you why I am crying."

Antonio frowned; "why not?"

"Because I, simply, do not want to."

"No, no way," Lovino heard a thud next to him and the ground shook slightly. Lovino turned to see that Antonio had just rolled off the bed and onto the floor.

" _Are you insane_?" he hissed, "what the hell did you do that for? Do you want to wake up everyone in the building or are you trying to break your stitches in order to turn back into the human fountain?"

"Actually, I wanted to give you this," and Antonio leaned over to hug him, causing Lovi to give a small squeak, every muscle in his body tensing.

"Why?" he gasped; he didn't like people going near him, but on the other hand, no one apart from his family every showed any affection towards him, so Lovino decided to not push the person next to him away, though it went against everything his mind told him.

"Well that is what you do to someone who is crying, you hug them," said Antonio like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I always hug my siblings when they were sad as children. Even now, I still give Carlos a hug every time he has a bad day. It is just the kind thing to do."

"Well… thank you," mumbled Lovino.

"Now listen to me, okay?" began Antonio, "you are a wonderful person. You helped me earlier tonight and if it was not for you, I would probably be lying dead in some alley waiting for the peelers to find me. So I want to help you. You are crying and I want to know why, so I can help you and say kind words and if anyone is giving you trouble, I can just tell Sadik and he will get all of the other actors to go find that person and… talk to them."

"I appreciate the offer but… no one is giving me trouble. I just… have not been the same since my grandfather died. He was my best friend and I know it was just over sixteen years ago since he left this world but I still miss him, even if Florenza was always his favourite."

"Now, now, I am sure he loved you both equally. And Florrie and Sal love you too."

"I am sure they try to," sniffed Lovino, "but I am not a likeable person. I have been alone in myself too long."

"But you _are_ a likeable person because, if you were not, then how would I like you?" Antonio pointed out, "and Florrie and Sal love you, I can see that. I may not be the most observant person in the world, but I can see you siblings' love for you." He leaned closer, "and you will never be alone any more. You have me now too!" He leaned away and looked at Lovino with wide, earnest eyes, "please join the acting group with us," he pleaded suddenly; "it will do you good to make new friends. We would all look out for you!"

"Will you keep the noise down if I accept?" asked Lovino.

"Si," came the hushed reply. Lovino groaned quietly.

"Fine, I will consider your offer. Would Sadik mind though?'

Antonio thought for a moment.

"I do not think he would have any objections. We are pretty short on people and he is fond of Florenza and you. Hey maybe Sal could join up too!"

"Shhhhh," hissed Lovino, "and maybe he could, seeing as how he hates his job and all. But then it would be back to Florrie and Sal being stars and perfect and me being alone, pushed aside and forgotten."

"It would not be like tha-"

"It will," Lovino pointed to where his little siblings were curled up sleeping, "see, even when they are not conscious, they shun me. They sleep curled up together while I am alone. I am not too surprised through. They are both so passionate about everything whilst I hate the entire world every day."

"But you _are_ passionate," replied Antonio earnestly, "I can see it in you, you just do not have anything to be passionate about yet except grief and hate. And they're not shunning you; there's just no more room in the bed for you."

"I suppose you might be right," Lovino looked away from the gentle, olive eyes next to him; he never confessed things like this to anyone, not that he had anyone to talk to. Maybe that was why.

"If you want hugs and affection," Antonio continued, "then how about I give you hugs and affection?"

Lovino scoffed, "what is it with you and hugs?"

Antonio just shrugged, "it is the only way I can think of making people happy."

"Right…"

"…but this is getting uncomfortable, should we share your bed for tonight?"

"But what if I accidentally upset your stitches?"

"Do not care at all," said Antonio cheerily.

"Only because you would not have to pay for the repairs," snapped Lovino.

Antonio looked like he had been slapped.

"Apologies, I promise to pay you back for the doctor's fees," he assured, "just… do not hate me-"

"I do not hate you," interrupted Lovino, "and I'm sorry; what I said was just mean."

"Mean but true," Antonio pointed out.

"And I do not care," replied Lovino, "seriously, the charge did not matter, though if you feel obliged to pay some of the costs that would be great, but Florrie and I gave that money to save a life, which is way more important, and gives a better feeling, than a few pennies. Besides," he added, guiltily avoiding Antonio's gaze, "if I had not asked to go drinking with you, then you would not have been stabbed."

"No," agreed Antonio, "I would probably be at home fighting with Jan or Carlos. Instead I made a friend, and I would happily see my whole body get covered in scars to not have you hate me."

"If you say so…"

"I _do_ say so," confirmed Toni; "now, can we please not spend the night lying on the floor like a couple of beggars?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, so as I have said before, 'Peelers' is a Victorian slang term for a policeman. And 'quacks' is a slang term for the doctors, based on the duck-like masks doctors would wear during the plague to make sure they didn't catch it.
> 
> I will try to get the next chapter written sooner and its back to the Nordic guys next.
> 
> And Dr [Yao] Wang is China
> 
> Carlos- Cuba
> 
> Jan- Netherlands
> 
> Eva- Belgium
> 
> That's all for now.


	19. Brother

It was late afternoon and Peter Kirkland was boredly sweeping the floor, one of his daily duties. There were only a few customers left and the shop would soon be closing; at the other end of the room, Aleks was tidying [shelves](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=19/#) whilst Tino wrapped toys in brown paper and took money, and Mathias was showing a small group of children how to use a cup and ball.

Peter sighed to himself. Lars was playing in the park with his new friend, Franz, whilst he still had to do his chores. Sure, he was extremely happy that Lars had a friend, seeing as he didn't mix with the other boys at their school, but he couldn't help but feel his precious little [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=19/#) was drifting away from him.

Just like all his other brothers.

Peter wondered when Arthur was coming home.

"Hey Peter," the boy turned around to find Tino standing behind him, "I think you have done enough work for today, how about going outside to play with Hanna for a while, or going to see Charlotte?"

"No it is okay," sighed Peter, continuing to sweep, "I do not mind."

"Are you sure?" Tino looked at his son in concern.

Peter nodded.

"If you say so…" Tino walked over to advise a customer and Peter opened the [front door](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=19/#) to sweep the porch. All around him, he heard shouts and cries of the people navigating the busy street… and familiar singing.

"…send me back to London as quickly as you can, oh Mr Porter what a silly girl I am!"

"ARTHUR!" Peter ran to where the voice was coming from and barrelled into the man walking down the lane. He laughed and hugged back.

"Hello there little man," he chuckled, "how have you been?"

"I missed you!" Peter sobbed as he looked up into his older brother's face, and nearly screamed.

One of Arthur's eyes was missing and the side of his face was covered in ugly scars.

"Oh," Arthur turned his head so Peter couldn't see the scars, "right. My apologies for scaring you."

"You did not scare me!" scoffed Peter, "I do not care about a few piddly scratches."

Arthur chuckled, "'tis more than a few piddly scratches, but thank you. So are you having fun with Tino and Berwald?"

Peter nodded, "yup and we have some of Berwald's old friends working with us now. They travelled from Copenhagen, which is in Denmark; have you ever been to Denmark?" he asked. He avoided referring to Tino and Berwald as 'father' when Arthur was around, as he knew it upset him, not that Arthur would show it if he was. But Peter could still tell when something saddened his big brother.

Arthur shook his head.

"Well Mathias, Aleks and his little [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=19/#) Erikur live with us now, and it is crowded but fun."

"How nice,' Arthur gave a small smile.

"So how long will you be staying this time?" inquired Peter.

"Until January," his brother informed him.

"Oh wow so you can stay for Christmas?" Peter could hardly believe his ears.

"If that is okay…" began Arthur sheepishly.

"It is more than okay!" exclaimed Peter, "this will be the best Christmas ever! We are having a party on Christmas Eve and everything. And everyone will be there! Together!"

"Really?" asked Arthur, interested.

"Yes it was Tino and Mathias' idea!"

"Great, well I shall look forward to that," Arthur thought for a moment, "so, have you been on your best behaviour?"

"Of course!"

"And have you been concentrating on your work and school studies?"

"Of course! I got top marks in sport."

"Really?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Of course!" scoffed Peter, "and I will race you to prove it." Then he ran as fast as he could back to the [front door](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=19/#), Arthur, considerably slower, jogging behind. Peter leaned against the doorway, laughing loudly and breathing heavily.

"Told you I was faster," he giggled.

"Oh… come off it," Arthur panted, "I… let you win."

"Course you did," Peter shook his head, still laughing, "come on, you _have_ to meet everyone. Lars is out but everyone else is at home."

"Right," Arthur followed his little brother into the shop. He took a moment to look around at the familiar room with its packed [shelves](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=19/#) and the smell of wood and paint. The whole atmosphere of the place screamed family to him and Arthur knew he had made the right choice sending his little brother to work there.

"Ah, Arthur,' said Tino, walking over to them, 'you arrived safely then.'

"Quite so, I assume you received my letter," he said it like it was a question.

Tino nodded, "yes, I got it yesterday morning,"

"Wait," Peter looked at Tino, confused, "you knew he was coming?"

"Yes," answered Tino, "I did not tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise; after all, you _did_ say you wanted Arthur home for Christmas."

"Did you now?" asked Arthur, amused, "yes I sent to letter the moment the ship docked in Southampton."

"And it only arrived a day before you did?" inquired Tino.

Arthur shrugged, "it would appear so."

"Hey Artie, your suits are in the cupboard still, if you want to get changed," Peter told him, tugging at his stiff sailor's trousers.

"Excellent," Arthur gave a small smile, "I missed dressing properly, and washing. Is my cricket set there too?"

"Yes Artie."

"Lovely," Arthur ruffled his little brother's hair, "and it is Arthur to you, ya little scallywag."

"Whatever you say, Artie," teased Peter.

Arthur just shook his head and made his way to the stairs, he stopped to introduce himself to Mathias, Aleks and Erikur then walked up to the first floor, "just getting a change of clothes," he told them.

…

"… so, they get you unconscious, then they just drag you away." Arthur finished simply.

"They can do that?" asked Mathias, astounded.

Arthur nodded, "the royal navy: defending the British Empire with a bunch of drunkards found lying on the floor of your local pub." He added jokingly.

"What is all this?" asked Aleks, entering the kitchen, where Arthur, Peter and Mathias were sitting around the dining table and chatting. Arthur, clean and changed, looked immaculate in a smart black suit and bowler hat.

"Old Artie here is telling us about how the navy press-gangs drunken people," Mathias answered, "you know, since hardly anyone wants to join it. I guess this means I have to be careful when I drink in taverns from now on."

"Well I doubt they would bother with people here," Arthur informed, "so long as you do not drink too close to the docks, you will be safe. And enough of the old, I am younger than you."

"But you talk like you are old," reasoned Mathias.

"I most certainly do not," cried Arthur.

"Hey, Artie, can we go to the park? Just for a bit. We can play cricket and go cycling," asked Peter.

"You have a bicycle?" asked Arthur.

"Yes it's mine," Mathias cut in, "but I guess you can borrow it."

"Brilliant, thank you," said Arthur, "always wanted to ride one."

"So can we go? Please?" pleaded Peter. Arthur sighed, though he was secretly delighted at the thought of spending time with his brother.

"Fine, if you insist…"

"Yay! We can take Hanna too!" exclaimed Peter.

"Hanna is the dog, right?" asked Arthur, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to remember.

"Yes! Come on!" Peter jumped up and ran downstairs.

"Hey papa, Artie and I are going to the park," he told Berwald as he entered the workshop.

"H've fun," replied Berwald, not taking his eyes off of the train he was carving.

Once outside, Peter untied Hanna and waited impatiently for Arthur to show up. Arthur eventually strolled out the door carrying a cricket bat and ball, which he handed to Peter, and picked up the penny-farthing, which had been propped against one of the walls bordering the garden, abandoned by Mathias after his embarrassing first attempt to ride it. He always said he'd give it another go, but never got round to it. Peter placed Hanna into the little basket on the bike, held the gate open for Arthur and the two of them made their way along the alley.

They passed the bakery and waved hello to Jemima, who was putting out washing on the line.

"Oy oy, 'tis Lord Nelson," she cried once she saw Arthur's eye patch, laughing at her own joke. Arthur decided to ignore her.

"What the hell is that?" he exclaimed, looking at the fluffy black and white sheep that was walking around their garden.

"'That' is a she!" cried Jemima, "and she is a sheep, if you could not see. And her name is Fiona."

"Hey, she looks like Hanna," said Peter, picking Hanna up and leaning her over the garden wall so that she was dangling over Fiona. The dog yapped at the sheep, who bleated back.

"I think they like each other," laughed Jemima, "so, you must be Peter's sailor brother, am I right?"

"Indeed you are."

"You look like brothers, must be the eyebrows," commented Jemima, "so Arthur, ever been to Australia?"

"Yes, once," recalled Arthur, "you are from there, right?"

"Yeah, did you like it there?"

"Yes the weather was lovely, the wildlife… not so much…"

Jemima laughed; "so, where'd ya go this time?"

"Well I just got back from Malaysia, was dropping off some rubber plants from India."

"Ah, so you are a merchant, right?"

"I am part of a merchant ship's crew, yes."

"I hope you don't think me rude for asking, but how did you lose your eye?"

Peter listened intently for Arthur's answer; he wanted to know too, though he had been afraid to ask him himself. He put Hanna back in her basket whilst still listening to the conversation.

"Ah, well, let's just say that, if you are ever on a boat and someone yells 'duck'…"

"Yes?"

"You bloody duck."

"I'll try to remember," Jemima assured him with a wink, then she saw the cricket bat Peter was carrying.

"Hey, you play too?" she asked; Arthur nodded, "we have to get together to play sometime, okay? My husband and I versus you two."

"I shall look forward to it," Arthur told her, "well, must dash, if we want to make it to the park before nightfall. Damn these short winter days."

"Well it was nice seeing you," Jemima said, waving goodbye.

"Nice seeing you too," replied Arthur, then he turned to Peter as they waked down the alley, "hey shall we have a sing-song to pass the time?"

"Yes!"

And the two brothers walked to the park singing 'Oh Mr Porter' noisily and out of tune, much to the dismay of everyone who passed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A maggoty old sea biscuit for anyone who found the horrible histories reference in this chapter. Sorry it's short, and I know I said I would be back to writing about the Nordics, what I meant was they would appear in the chapter, at least, but its Peter and Arthur-centric. Please forgive me.
> 
> And Oh Mr Porter is a really old Victorian song; it was the only one I knew, that wasn't Irish at least.
> 
> Now does anyone want to hazard a guess at who the killer is and why you think that? It's one of the characters in the story but who do you all think it is?


	20. Art

"Well this is nice," Lars leaned back and smiled at Franz. The two boys were sitting on a [wooden bench](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=20/#) in the park. They'd picked a nice spot to sit and could see a huge sweep of the park as the bench was on a hill, including the pond and a wooded area.

"Indeed," Franz played absent-mindedly with one of his plaits, swinging his legs lazy and watching people in fine clothes amble along stony paths.

"Hey what to you think of these serial killings that have been happening lately?" asked Lars, trying to sound intelligent by discussing current events.

Franz just shrugged, "well it is scary, yes, but I do not think the police will catch him. They never caught Jack the Ripper and they will never catch this guy."

"Hey, the police are trying very hard young man," said Franz's tutor, a polite, friendly, brown-haired chap by the name of Toris, "but it is not good for you boys to be discussing such things. There is an ice cream stand over there. I will get you some, okay? But only if you talk about something else."

"Whatever you say sir," mumbled Franz, looking disinterested. Toris sighed and got up, walking over to a nearby stand. Lars watched him as he went.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked.

"He does not like me talking about the murders," Franz told him, sitting up; "his [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=20/#) works on the police force. Mr Toris has two brothers; well, they are not his real brothers but he looks after them. Well, his middle brother, Eduard, is really smart and is trying to solve the case. But seeing all those dead and bloody bodies affects him badly and gives him night terrors. He never talks to Toris about them, says he doesn't want to scare his brothers with what he see has seen, but often wakes up screaming at night and Toris holds him when he cries."

"He told you this?" asked Lars.

Franz shook his head, "I heard him telling our coachman, Mr Feliks, all of this. If I am honest, I really want the killer caught so Mr Toris' brother can get better. I like the family, and I sometimes play with the youngest boy, Raivis, and it is horrible when bad things happen to them. But why do bad things happen to those who do not deserve it, Lars?" he asked.

"I wish I knew," murmured Lars. Toris returned with the two ice creams, which he handed to Lars and Franz, who said thank you and began to eat.

"So how is your family?" asked Franz, slurping his ice cream noisily, an action that caused Toris' eye to twitch, but the man said nothing.

Lars sighed, "eccentric as ever. They have been organising some sort of festive celebration for Christmas Eve. Would you like to come?"

"I will ask my parents."

"And how are they?"

Franz frowned for a moment, "well, my father has been disappearing then coming home late and not saying where he has been, which worries my mother, but apart from that we are fine."

"Well I am sure Mr Edelstein has very important work to do," reasoned Toris.

"Yes I am sure, but why will he not tell us where he goes?" questioned Franz.

"I am sure he has his reasons."

Franz shook his head and turned back to Lars; "so how is school?"

"Good," Lars looked around at the scenery, "did some spelling and we drew portraits in art. I did not get a chance to finish mine but I will next week."

"And what did you draw?" asked Franz.

"Well I want to paint Mathias, Aleks and Erikur a family portrait of them for Christmas," said Lars, pulling out is sketchbook to show Franz the picture. He turned to the most recent used page and handed the [book to](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=20/#) his friend.

Franz studies the painting closely. It was a picture of three men, all in waistcoats and shirts with an assortment of neckties. It was partially coloured so Franz could tell they were all different shades of blond and the waistcoat on one of the men- who had spiked hair and a wide grin- was deep red with swirly patterns embroidered onto it.

"That one is my Uncle Mathias," explained Lars, "I drew him wearing his favourite waistcoat; Erikur made it for him one Christmas a few years ago. And that one is Aleksander and this fella is Erikur," Lars pointed at the figures as he spoke.

"It is a lovely picture," commented Franz, "I am certain your Uncles will love it."

"Thank you," Lars looked away, embarrassed, "so have you been painting much lately?"

"Yes I painted my mother a few days ago, I also painted one of Raivis," Franz produced his own sketch book and showed Lars the two new pictures, one of a middle aged woman with medium brown hair and another of a boy a little older than him with sandy, curled hair.

"Oh wow I wish I could draw like you," exclaimed Lars.

"But you should draw like you do," cried Franz, "your drawing style is unique to you."

"If you say so…" Lars trailed off, "hey maybe we could draw each other!"

"That is a brilliant idea, Lars." The two boys turned to a [clean](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=20/#) page in their sketch books and began to scribble furiously.

"Of course," continued Franz, "we cannot paint them, so they will have to be tonal drawings."

"Stop moving," whined Lars. Franz complied and they both sat drawing for roughly half an hour. They didn't even react when Toris said he was going to walk to the pond. Eventually Lars set his pencil down and Franz followed shortly after. They exchanged notebooks and gasped at the same time.

"Wow this is brilliant!" breathed Franz.

"Yours is better!" argued Lars.

"Nonsense! I would buy this in a shop!"

"I would look at it in an art gallery!"

Lars frowned as his work was handed back to him, "but it's so rough, not neat like your drawing."

"But that is what I like about it. Same with your painting style, it is rough and you are good at using varying tones." Franz gave him a wide smile.

"But you paint smoothly and blend your colours well," argued Lars.

"So we both have strengths and weaknesses when we do art, but no masterpiece is ever perfect, even if we were all to have the same idea of what perfect actually is."

"True," agreed Lars.

"We have to do this again sometime,' insisted Franz, 'I cannot remember the last time I had so much fun."

'Oh definitely!"

"But it will have to be soon because my family and I go back to Vienna in the New Year…"

"Oh," Lars was devastated; this was the first time he had a friend of his own. Not one of Peter's friends who let him tag along, but his own true friend who liked him for himself. And now he was moving halfway across Europe.

"I shall be back in September though," added Franz.

"But that is such a long time," whined Lars.

"Tis, but the Austo-Hungarian Empire is my home, and I am sure the time will fly by."

"You are Austrian?" asked Lars, trying to change the subject.

"Half Austrian, half Hungarian," Franz corrected, "and you are…?"

"Swedish," Lars told him, "my parents lived in the United Kingdom of Sweden and Norway before they died."

"Your parents are dead? I am so sorry to hear that." Franz could not contemplate life without his mother and father.

"They died when I was a baby so I do not remember them much. Papa Berwald raised me; he is actually my Uncle and my mother's twin brother. But I think of him as my father, Papa Tino too."

"Well at least you had a lovely family to grow up around," Franz reasoned, "I hope you do not mind me asking, but how did your real parents die?"

"They were in a carriage accident. A drunk driver crashed his coach into theirs and they were killed instantly. I was staying with Papa Berwald at the time so survived. The driver was arrested but they released him due to insufficient evidence, but the truth was that they were bribed. Papa Berwald never told me this; Uncle Aleks did a few weeks ago, because talking about it is too much for Papa to bear."

"How terrible, gasped Franz. Lars only nodded. "So what is Sweden like?"

"I don't know, moved to London when I was little and my earliest memories are of Papas Berwald and Tino," Lars told him, "what is Austria like?"

"Absolutely lovely!" exclaimed Franz, "just beautiful; I have paintings and photographs of different places in Vienna. Remind me to bring them next time we meet up."

Lars nodded, even though he didn't want to be reminded that his friend was departing to there soon. Franz gazed at the view for a few minutes before sitting up and squinting at something in the distance.

"What is it?" asked Lars.

Franz pointed at something and Lars looked where he was indicating, "is that your brother?" he asked.

Lars looked on in mortified horror at a man riding a penny-farthing with a child holding on behind him, both blond, and a small fluffy dog in the basket on the bike, chasing pigeons and causing the other park users to quickly dash out of their way to avoid being hit. One man even tumbled into the pond. Both riders were laughing loudly.

"Err, no, you must be mistaken," said Lars hastily, _god dammit Peter_ , he thought angrily.

"No, it has to be him," insisted Franz, "who is the fellow he is with?"

"His older brother, Arthur," admitted Lars.

"You never told me you had _another_ brother!"

"That is because I do not," growled Lars, "he is Peter's brother, but not mine."

"Oh," said Franz, "so you and Peter are not related?"

"Not really," informed Lars, "though he is irritating like a real brother."

Franz laughed, "I wish I had brothers, or even sisters. It is horrible being an only child."

"But you do not have to share your toys, or get called names," reasoned Lars.

"Maybe, but it is lonely," said Franz sadly.

"I guess so," Lars could not imagine a life that wasn't surrounded by family; no matter how infuriating they were, they still cared about him, "would you like my brother?" He could do without Peter sometimes.

Franz laughed again, "I might take you up on that offer," he joked.

…

Later on, Lars and Franz walked down the street to Lars' house, Toris following behind, far enough to give them some privacy, but close enough to keep an eye on them. When they reached the toy shop, Lars turned to his new best friend.

"Well today was fun," he began.

"Shall we meet up again next week?" suggested Franz.

"If your parents say we can," Lars told him, "hey would you like to come inside and play? Peter will be home and we have a lot of toys," he added.

"I do not doubt for one second that you have a large number of toys," joked Franz; "can I?" he asked Toris, who nodded.

"If that is okay with Lars' parents, then you can."

"Ah wunderbar!" exclaimed Franz.

Lars opened the door only to be greeted by angry shouts.

"All right, listen here you bunch of quims! The next wanker to call me Lord Nelson is getting dragged to the Thames where I'll keel haul you myself!" So Arthur was home…

"On second thought," began Lars, "maybe you should come back another time…"

"Agreed."


	21. Missing

Berwald was starting to get really sick of people knocking on his door in the middle of the night. He looked up from the [rocking horse](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=21/#) he was building and frowned as he realised someone was frantically pounding on the back door, and not the front. There was no one else in the room- he had sent Tino to bed after the man kept falling asleep and jerking awake covered in paint- so it was up to Berwald to answer it. He stood up and wore the scariest expression he could pull his face into, ready to frighten off whichever rude person dared disturb him, but the glare turned to a look of concern when he saw who was at the door.

It was William, and he was in tears.

"Please help," he begged, "Jemima! She's gone missing."

Berwald nodded and stepped aside to let him in, but William shook his head.

"I have to try to find her, but please watch Charlotte and the others, make sure they're safe, then try to set up search parties, please," he started running towards the back gate, "and get the police!"

Berwald nodded again and ran up the stairs. He found Arthur, Erikur, Aleks and Mathias lying on the [sofa](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=21/#) around the fire.

"Hey you're just in time, Waldy," called Mathias, "we have presently cracked open a bottle of rum to celebrate Arthur not dying at sea;" his smile disappeared when he saw Berwald's face. "What happened?" he asked, worry in his voice.

"Jemima has d'sappeared," he informed them. Ignoring the gasps from everyone in the room, he continued; "I have to watch their childr'n. Erikur, get the police and the rest of you wake Tino up and help William search."

Erikur leapt up and was down the stairs in an instant. Mathias and Arthur followed Berwald to the bakery whilst Aleks dragged a grumpy Tino out of bed, whose grouchiness disappeared after Aleks filled him in as he pulled on whatever clothes he could find. By the time the two men reached the front of the bakery, Erikur had already found two police officers, who were listening to a distraught William explain what had happened.

"She sai-said she was going to," he sobbed, "t-take the washing in a-and I waited for her to come back but she never did to I we-went outside to che-check a-" William burst into fresh tears.

The taller of the of the two policemen, which Tino recognised to be the same one who had tried to arrest Ivan, patted William's shoulder.

"Please, you have to tell us what happened so we can get her back," he told him.

"She wasn't there, a-and the washing basket was just lying there and the-there was clothes all over the floor and the g-gate was broken!"

"Do you think someone dragged her away?" the taller policeman asked the shorter one, who shrugged.

"Possibly, in fact, very likely," he said. William whimpered, burying his face in his hands.

"Hey, we will find her, I promise?" Mathias assured him.

"Now, the best thing to do would be to split up into groups and search the area for her, got it?" said the taller policeman, "and thank you all for volunteering to form search parties, we will need all the help we can get."

Mathias nodded in agreement; "good idea, Officer…?"

"Ludwig, call me Ludwig, and my partner here is-"

"Eduard Von Brock," Tino smiled, "you always said you wanted to be a peeler and here you are! Who knew, right?"

Eduard chuckled, "it is good to see you too, Tino, and nice to see that you have also made something of yourself."

"Wait, you two know each other?" asked Erikur.

"Yes, we used to work in the same factory in our early teens," Eduard informed them, "have not seen him though for nearly eleven years now."

"Didn't know ya worked in a factory," mumbled Berwald.

"That would be because I didn't tell you," answered Tino, "and, to be honest, I had no intention of telling you."

Berwald didn't reply.

Ludwig cleared his throat impatiently, glaring at each one of the people gathered; "there is a woman's life at stake could we please get back to the matter at hand?"

Everyone nodded guiltily and listened as Ludwig assigned them into search groups.

…

Tino really did not want to be paired with Berwald.

Sure, the neighbourhood was pretty creepy at night, and there was the possibility of a mass murderer lurking in the shadows around them, but Tino was troubled by the idea of being asked about his past; it was not something he wanted to even remember, let alone discuss with someone he respected and cared for; hopefully, though, Berwald wouldn't bring it up. Not at a time like this.

Still, he couldn't think of that now. He, along with Berwald and William, were searching for Jemima south of the bakery, with three other groups looking in different directions. William walked several paces ahead, holding a lamp out in front of him to light the way. He thoroughly searched every back street and alley they passed in the hopes of finding his love. Berwald walked next to Tino, who both had lanterns of their own, and, although it was never said aloud, neither of them expected to find Jemima alive.

It was the early hours of the morning by the time they found her.

Well, they heard frantic footsteps and spotted Eduard running hysterically towards them; he reached them and doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

"What is it? Have you found her?" asked William.

Eduard nodded, not looking any of them in [the eye](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=21/#).

"And?" William demanded.

Eduard shook his head and burst into tears.

…

Eduard had found her lying in an alley after he wandered from his search group and when the four of them ran around a corner they saw Ludwig, Erikur and Arthur standing around her. For a few moments, nobody moved at all. Then, William ran to his wife and knelt beside her, crying fresh tears.

There was no doubt that she was dead. Her eyes were open wide, but unseeing, her chest was still and her face pale, like one of Tino's china dolls, had it not been for her horrific injuries. The bruises on her face and the state of her hair and clothes suggested she'd put up a brave fight against her attacker; nobody would have expected anything less of Jemima. The dark red gash on her chest matched the other murder victims, according to Ludwig, who looked exceptionally ill as he spoke, which surprised Tino who, although was feeling a little ill himself, thought that the policeman would be used to gore and death. It made the terrifying man seem more human, like he felt real emotion from time to time. It made Tino feel slightly reassured.

William held Jemima close, sobbing into her hair and not noticing that he was now covered in blood. Her blood. Of course, he had more important things to think about. William's whole world was destroyed and his best friend, his partner, his soul mate, was gone forever. No one had the heart to disturb him, and the two policemen began to search the alley for clues, anything that might help them find who did it.

Something metallic caught Ludwig's eye and he bent down and picked up an expensive-looking cigarette case. It was made of silver, with elaborate, detailed carvings that, if Ludwig squinted, looked like musical notes.

"Hey, do any of you smoke?" he asked the people gathered around.

"Is now really the time?" asked Eduard with a disgusted expression before shrugging, "but if you're offering…"

"Nein-err no, I meant that I have found this," Ludwig held up the cigarette case for Eduard to see. The others all gathered around too.

"So this case belongs to none of you then?" continued Ludwig. Everyone shook their heads.

"Well, then we may have collected our first hard evidence," Ludwig studied the object in his hand, smiling slightly, "you can tell a lot about a person simply by looking at their cigarette case and between this and Mr Fernandez Carriedo's statement, we now have more evidence than we dared hope for. With a bit of luck, this will be enough to catch whoever did it."

"You think so?" asked Tino.

"Most likely."

It was then that Mathias and Aleks came running into view, stopping when they saw everyone. Their eyes fell on William cradling a lifeless Jemima and paled, heads shaking.

"Oh no," breathed Mathias; "we were too late." He walked over to William and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Nobody dared speak and the only sound to be heard was William's sobbing and howling.

…

Roderich quietly opened the front door and checked to see if the coast was clear. Finding no one, he let himself in, noiselessly shutting the door behind him and creeping towards the grand staircase before him.

"And what time do you call this?" demanded Elizabeta.

Roderich wheeled round to face his wife, who was standing in a doorway, hands on hips and glaring at him.

"I-I'm… apologies," he tried, "please, I was busy at work and-"

"You are a composer, Roderich Edelstein; you work at home messing about with that piano of yours."

"Well sometimes I play the violin too-"

"Do not test me Edelstein," she growled, "where have you been?"

"I am afraid I cannot tell you just yet," he admitted, "but I will notify you of the reasons behind my absences, and soon, I promise."

"You had better," threatened Elizabeta, then her face softened, "so, would you like me to wake up cook so you can have something to eat?"

"That shan't be necessary," informed Roderich, "I have no appetite at this moment. By any chance, have you seen my cigarette case? I seem to have lost it today."

"The one I gave you last year?" asked Elizabeta, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, the musical one. I love it and it would be a shame if I lost it."

"Well I _would_ offer to help you look for it tomorrow," said Elizabeta, "but I am sure you would rather do that alone. All I can suggest is that you retrace your footsteps in the morning. But it is almost dawn now so we have to go to sleep." Then she walked up the stairs without saying another word.

"Yes dear," replied Roderich, following her.


	22. Let's talk murder

It was a quiet, subdued group that was gathered around the [kitchen table](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=22/#) the morning after the murder. Grim faces played half-heartedly with long-cold cups of coffee, trying to not look at the graphic front page of the newspaper Berwald had bought that morning, and not had the heart or stomach to read.

None of them could quite get their heads around the concept of a close friend, a dear friend, dying so horribly. Sure, even in 1888, people died every day, and individuals had been murdered by this person before, but it was no one they had been close to. Except Arthur, who had been devastated to hear of the death of his childhood friend, Francis, they barely knew any of the victims. It had made them realise the gravity of the situation. Any one of them could be dead by tomorrow and, until the killer's motives were discovered, everyone was at risk. That thought terrified Berwald in particular; he could not even contemplate a life without Tino, his sons and even the other good natured, if slightly insane, men around this table. It was too horrible to think about.

Jemima did not deserve what had happened to her. Why had she even been targeted? Had she been too loud and jokey to someone? Did people really hate that fact that she, as a woman, ran her own business, no matter how small it was?

"So who do you think did it?" Mathias asked no-one in particular. His hair was flatter today, as he had not been in the mood to fix it when he woke up. He wore his favourite red patterned waistcoat though; he always did when he needed a feeling of security or comfort.

"No idea," mumbled Berwald.

"I know Jemima could sometimes be loud or irritating, especially when drunk," began Tino, "but she was one of the sweetest, kindest people I know and I cannot imagine anyone wanting to hurt her, let alone…" he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yeah, but wasn't she in a big punch-up only two days ago?" suggested Mathias.

"You think it was the little Italian girl who did it?" asked Tino.

"Who are we talking about?" asked Erikur. Mathias rolled his eyes.

"Did I not tell you there was a huge fight in the bakery between Jemima and some actress, what's her name? Fiona? Francine? I'm not saying it was her, though it might have been, but that massive huge policeman companion of hers might not like people taking swings at his lady, right?"

"What? Ludwig?" scoffed Tino, "the guy who goes green at the sight of a dead body? I saw him getting all queasy last night when he found Jemima."

"Maybe he was acting," suggested Arthur.

"Could be," mused Tino; he saw Berwald scribbling in a notebook, "hey what'ya writing Ber?" he asked, craning his neck.

"List'a suspects," he informed them, "and oth'r imp'rtant things you all might say."

"And there was me thinking you were just zoning out," joked Mathias, then he added, more seriously, "good idea though, might come in handy later." Berwald nodded and looked at his notes again, pencil poised.

"Hey what about the other police fellow?" suggested Aleks.

"Who? Eduard?" Tino shook his head, "I know the man. He wouldn't hurt anyone."

"How can you be sure?" pressed Erikur, "he said it himself that you had not met for eleven years. It can take only a second for someone to change, to snap, to become a monster. You friend has had eleven whole years to do so."

"Yes but what makes you so sure it was him? Any particular reason, or are you just _that_ desperate for a nice long list of suspects? What evidence is there to suggest a motive or an opportunity for such a crime?" Tino leaned back with a triumphant look on his face.

"He was the one who found her," suggested Mathias.

"Yes but he was part of a group," contradicted Tino, "they would have seen or heard him do it. Jemima's loud; no way would she go quietly!"

"Well those peelers all have protection," reasoned Arthur, "they look out for each other. So Eduard could get away with whatever he wants. Actually, wasn't there a rumour that Jack the Ripper could be a policeman?"

"Ev'ry person and group under the sun has been accused 'f being Jack the Ripper though," Berwald shot back, "dr'nk guy once accused _me_ of being him!"

"Yes and how do you even know about him anyways?" questioned Tino, "weren't you at sea during those killings?"

"As a matter of fact," said Arthur, "I was reading through all your old papers to catch up on the news last night whilst yer [snored](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=22/#) your fat arse off!"

"Out 'f order, Kirkland," growled Berwald, stabbing a finger in Arthur's direction.

"Hey I can fight my own battles, Berwald," cried Tino, "you think eyebrows over there scares me, huh?"

"I-err…" began Berwald.

"Excuse me?" cried Arthur indignantly, "there's nothing wrong with my facial hair, you fragile little pipsqueak!"

Tino said nothing; he just sank back into his chair and smiled innocently, an action that made Berwald want to hide under the table and cover his eyes. He loved Tino, but knew the damage he could do. Tino was to him what the sea was to Arthur.

Speaking of which…

"Arthur," Tino's voice was sweet, but everyone in the room could sense the venom within it, "I am afraid I did not quite catch that last bit, please repeat the final word."

"I would rather not," Arthur avoided his glare.

"It was not a question."

Arthur sighed, "fine, I called you a pipsqueak, you creepy little blond bollocks."

Tino's smile fell off and he stood up. "That's it!" he cried, "I'm getting my gun!"

"Hey do you think it could be one of them that dun it?" Mathias hissed to Aleks, who shrugged.

"It's plausible, yes," he considered, scratching his chin, "in fact, I wouldn't be so quick to say any member of this family is innocent."

"Oh?" Mathias looked at him in interest.

"What I mean is, it's pretty suspicious how interested you are in labelling people as top suspects. Is that to cover your own tracks, to direct the finger of accusation away from yourself?"

Mathias scoffed, "as if! If it's anyone, then it's probably you, you creepy little bastard. Sorry Aleksander, I love you and all, but how do we not know you're accusing me to direct blame away from yourself?"

By now both Tino and Arthur were standing with a gun in their hands, pointing the weapons at each other. Berwald stood between the two, trying desperately to calm them down, but was only succeeding in getting yelled at from both sides. There was only seconds before one of them took a shot.

Erikur looked on in despair at the two sets of arguments that were raging before him.

"Enough!" he screamed. That seemed to shut them up, and all heads turned towards him.

"What the hell is wrong with the lot of you?" he exclaimed, "here we are, trying to have a civil conversation that could possibly save lives and all you can do is turn on each other, with weapons and everything!" Tino and Arthur looked guiltily at their firearms. Berwald opened his mouth to object but Erikur silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, Berwald, I know you did not engage in confrontation and tried to break up those immature little shits' brawl, and thank you for being the only reasonably sane person in this undignified, humiliating family of mine. Yes, family, okay? I hate to admit it, but we are, so do not do this to each other. Or I will personally decapitate you all with that battle axe Mathias is so attached to then subsequently die of the shame of being associated with you idiots. You got that?"

Everyone nodded and slowly sat down with ashamed expressions.

"Th'nk you, Erikur," mumbled Berwald.

"It's just how I feel," replied the young man.

"I must say though," commented Mathias, "you're a brave man, challenging Tino to a gunfight, Arthur."

"The man never misses," added Aleks.

"Is that why the pair of you practically shat yourselves when Tino caught you trying to shove Lars up the chimney with a brush?" inquired Erikur.

"Yes, that was just cruel you two," added Tino icily, slowly turning the gun in his hands.

"What?" exclaimed Mathias, gulping, "there was a blockage and the midget was the only person small enough to crawl up there. Besides, he came out in one piece so what's the problem?"

"You could have damaged his eyes!" cried Tino, "or his lungs. He could have fallen, or gotten stuck, or suffocated."

"Alright, maybe it wasn't the best idea of ours," admitted Aleks.

"Ya think?" growled Berwald.

"Do not start this again!" threatened Erikur.

"Fine," sighed Tino.

"Speaking of Lars," continued Mathias, "there seems to be a distinct lack of high pitched voices that would cause us to have to censor our conversation. Where are your children?"

"Playing outside with Hanna," informed Tino.

"Are you sure that's safe?" asked Arthur.

"Perfectly safe. I can keep an eye on the pair of them out of the window." He pointed a thumb at the grimy glass square above the sink. Arthur sighed in relief.

"So, getting back to the matter at hand," said Mathias, "is there anyone else that would have a motive, or an opportunity to kill Jemima."

Everyone thought for a moment before Aleks finally spoke, almost tentatively.

"What about William?" he asked.

"Are you mad?" cried Tino, "the man is distraught, and did you not see him last night? Nobody is _that_ good an actor."

Aleks sighed, "Tino, your problem is that you are desperate to see the good in people, not the bad. Which, under normal circumstances, would be okay, but this is a murderer we're talking about. We have to look at all the possibilities." Tino sighed, nodding but saying nothing.

"Well, he has shown that he has a pretty nasty temper hidden behind his politeness," said Mathias, "right Waldy?"

"Yes, but," Berwald shook his head, "William is m' friend, I will not accuse him of such things. And he only looses his t'mper at people who insult Jemima, or his children, or women in general."

"But what if he was sick of letting Jemima run everything?" pressed Mathias; "what if one day his temper got the better of him?"

"Yes but this is not an isolated incident we are talking about," argued Tino, "this is a serial killer we're talking about, not some jealous husband. Is there any motive for William to kill those other people?"

Mathias remained silent.

"Didn't think so," Tino sat back in his chair.

There was silence for a few moments before Tino spoke again, "is there anyone else we can think of?" he asked no one in particular. There was a chorus of 'no's and Berwald stood up.

"I kn'w we are not opening the shop today," he told them, "but I'm still gonna build toys, to, ya know, keep my mind off of things."

"I understand," said Tino, "we'll tell you if we think of anything." Berwald nodded and left.

Erikur, too, rose to his feet.

"Well there's a little black and white bird that needs love and food, so if you'll all excuse me…" he walked towards the door, but stopped just before he left, wheeling around to face his family and glaring at them; "you all better promise to never drink before noon again. Tensions were running high enough without you all being at each other's throats," he hissed, pointing an accusing finger at them all and only leaving after everyone present had vowed to never touch a drop of alcohol before noon ever.

Tino sighed and stood up to leave as well, "there must be something to do."

"Why don't you open the shop?" suggested Mathias, "it is always busy on Saturdays, seeing as it is usually most people's day off and all. Plenty of distraction and plenty of cash."

"I just don't have the energy for that," sighed Tino. He wandered aimlessly into the shop, wiping a bit of dust here, straightening up a collection there.

"T'no? That you?" called Berwald.

"Right here," Tino walked into the workroom where Berwald sat, resting his chin on his hands and glaring at a half-finished rocking horse. When he heard Tino enter, he raised his head and looked Tino in the eyes.

"How c'me ya never said ya worked at a factory as a kid. Or that you had a friend called Eduard?" he asked.

Tino gave an exasperated sigh.

"You know I never talk of my past," he said.

"But why?"

Tino looked away, "it hurts, to talk of it. To be reminded of it."

"It hurts," agreed Berwald, "but it h'lps too. Helps ya let go, so ya don't get haunted by the bad things," he let out a quiet sigh, "yer m' best friend, right?"

"Of course."

"And who knows m'ybe more than friends…" Berwald trailed off.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Tino with a panicked expression.

"As in best friends, closer th'n brothers friends," Berwald clarified, trying to ignore his trembling hands.

"Oh…" Berwald wondered if he could hear disappointment in Tino's voice, see it in his expression, but dismissed the idea. It seemed too unlikely.

"So I want to know ev'rythin about you," he continued, "and that means past too. C'me on, you know all about my life, my family, everything. But I don't even know what yer parents were called, whether you had siblings, were you born in Finland?"

"Soon," promised Tino, "I'll tell you soon. But only when I am ready to tell." He sighed again; "you are right though, I really should start talking, about important things for once too."

"Ya pr'mise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Good."

There was an angry knock on the door, which caused the two friends to jump slightly.

"I got it," groaned Tino. Berwald just nodded, sitting silently on his stool. Tino strode across the wooden floor and unlocked the door. Through the window he could see a livid Vash shouting and sighed.

"Sorry, we are closed," he said pleasantly as he opened the door a fraction, poking his head out.

"Unacceptable!"

"Excuse me?" scoffed Tino, "if I say we are closed, we are closed."

"But I just need to buy one thing," pleaded Vash, "a Christmas present for my little Lilli, and this is my only day off between now and then."

Tino sighed, "all right, I guess we can make an exception for a loyal customer."

"But I have only been here once before…"

"Shut it," growled Tino, letting him in.

"Umm, do you still have those nutcrackers Lilli mentioned?" asked Vash, looking around at the different displays.

"Of course," chirped Tino, walking over to a shelf full of tiny wooden figures, picking up the one he remembered Lilli had liked, "here you go," he made his way to the counter and wrapped up the toy in brown paper before handing it to Vash, who handed him a handful of coins in return.

"Hey those look pretty," commented Vash, looking at a box full of carved horses next to the till, "I think Lilli would like one of those too, if that is okay."

Tino nodded and wrapped up a horse too.

"Thank you," Vash gave a small- forced- smile; "hey, I also want to buy a dress and a necklace for her too…"

"Sorry, we do not sell those here," Tino told him.

"I know, I know, but do you know where I could buy those?" Vash fiddled with his tie nervously, "I do not usually go shopping so I do not know where everything is sold."

"Of course," Tino thought for a moment, "you could always try Bonnefoy's tailor, just down the road if you turn left. Ask for Michelle, she'll help you and they do lovely clothes there. But I'm afraid I do not know anywhere that sells jewellery, maybe you can ask Michelle, or her sister Marianne."

Vash nodded, "thank you so much, I will definitely try there."

Mathias wandered downstairs just as Vash was leaving.

"Hey is that one of the tailor's creations?" he asked, indicating at Mathias' waistcoat.

Tino shook his head and Mathias chuckled, "no my brother in law made this for me, actually." Mathias smiled proudly as he said it. Sure, Erikur was not his real brother in law, but he was as close as one and Mathias guessed it wouldn't hurt too much to refer to him as one, especially to people he was unlikely to meet again.

"Well it's lovely," Vash gave another small smile, then left.

"Hey I thought we weren't open today," said Mathias.

Tino shrugged, "well Vash needed something and it was his only day off so, well it was an exception." He walked outside, "just getting some air," he told Mathias.

"If you can call all that smoke air," he replied. Tino chuckled slightly and looked around. The road was crowded with people buying and selling, the place full of life.

Tino looked over at the bakery and saw that that was also closed. Of course, William would be either talking to the police or mourning quietly with his children. Tino decided to pay a visit later, to offer comfort and condolences, but for now he thought it was best to give William his space.

"Excuse me," Tino turned around to find a woman looking at him.

"Err, hello madam," he replied, "how can I help you?"

"Are you open today?" she asked, indicating to the toy shop, "only this is my only day off and I want to buy presents for my children."

"Huh? Of course, please step inside and I will help you." Tino knew he would not be able to keep the place closed on a Saturday; still, the distraction would be nice.

…

"Hey Waldy, who is that Vash guy?" Mathias asked Berwald, sitting on the workbench and picking up whatever interested him off of the shelves, always putting them back in the wrong place, much to Berwald's irritation.

"Famous ex-army guy from Switzerl'nd who became a banker and moved to L'ndon," he told him, "dun know much 'bout him though, 'cept that he is protective of his little sister and good at shooting."

"Do you think he's our guy?" asked Mathias, opening a jar of red paint and sniffing it.

"Dunno," admitted Berwald, "unlikely though. He is m're of a rifle man, and all we know about the killer is that he stabs people."

"Yes well maybe he uses a knife to throw the peelers off his trail, Waldy," argued Mathias.

"Call me Waldy again and I will stab _you_."

…

"I will be late tonight as well," Roderich told his wife as he walked out of the front door, "so do not wait for me."

"Will you be looking for your cigarette case?" asked Elizabeta.

"Of course." Elizabeta guessed Roderich was probably lying, but did not call him out on it.

"I will see you tomorrow then," he added awkwardly. Elizabeta just nodded and he left.

When she closed the door, Elizabeta stood for a moment in surprise. He had not even kissed her or said he loved her before he left.

Roderich walked along the garden path, hands in pockets, looking at the dying flowers in their beds and sighed.

"Vater?" Roderich turned around to find Franz playing with Anna in the grass. He stood up and walked over to his father, carrying the doll in his arms. "Where are you going?" he asked, "is it the same place you always go?"

Roderich nodded, "yes but I cannot tell you where that is."

"Please tell me!" begged Franz, "or I will start crying right now!" small tears were already starting to form in the corner of his eyes.

"Stop that nonsense right now," snapped Roderich, Franz's eyes instantly dried up, but he still gave an occasional sniff.

"Fine," hissed Roderich through gritted teeth, "I will tell you, but you must promise to never tell anyone, especially your mother."

"I promise."

"You swear on your life?"

"I swear on my life." Franz felt a lump form in his throat as he said that, trembling slightly under his father's glare.

"Okay," Roderich leaned down and whispered into his son's ear.


	23. Everything red

"Hey, I just want to quickly see William and give him some stuff, okay," began Tino, "shan't be too long, I promise." As he spoke he filled a small basket with books and pulled on a coat and scarf. It had been a few days now, and Tino felt he had given William enough space, and that the man would be looking for company now.

"Are you insane?" Mathias jumped from the counter, where he had been idly sitting, and stood between Tino and the [front door](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=23/#). He had abandoned his tie and hat at some point during the day but was still wearing his red waistcoat, front loosely flatting with each movement. They were the only two in the room; Berwald and Aleks were shopping for supplies and everyone else was asleep, Erikur, Lars and Peter curled up in their beds whilst Arthur snored loudly on the sofa in the sitting room. Earlier that day, everyone decided that it was no longer safe to be travelling alone, even to the garden, so if anyone wanted to go somewhere, they would have to ask whoever was around to go with them, though it was taking some of them a while to get used to the new rules. Tino, for instance.

"Please Mathias," Tino rolled his eyes, "I am only going a few houses down the road. I am not a child and am perfectly capable of defending myself, if I need to."

"I could not give a damn," Mathias stopped Tino passing when the shorter man tried to walk around him, "you know the rules. If Berwald knew I let you out on your own he'd have a heart attack but somehow still manage to kill me in the process. Let me come with you, okay?"

"No, that is not necessary, now let me past. If you let me go now, Berwald will never know."

"I am afraid I cannot do that," Mathias folded his arms, "what does William need [books for](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=23/#) anyways? I don't think the guy can even think right now, let alone read."

"They are not for William," Tino held up one of the books, Mathias looked at the title, Treasure Island. "They are children's [books for](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=23/#) Charlotte and Yekaterina, and Ivan if he can read; I borrowed them from Peter and Lars. I thought they could use something to take their minds off of things."

"Good idea, I guess, thoughtful too," but Mathias shook his head, "you still cannot go out on your own though. I'll come with you, if you want."

"You have to stay here, Mathias," Tino looked his friend in [the eye](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=23/#); "this killer has been known to have actually snuck into people's houses to kill them and even kill people in their sleep. You have to stay here and guard everyone. They're defenceless asleep."

"Well, you're right," admitted Mathias, "but you have to stay as well!"

"You know I cannot do that," said Tino, "I want to talk to William, he needs friends right now."

Mathias did not speak for a minute; finally he sighed, "be quick, and do not let your guard down."

"Not for one second," promised Tino, giving a salute before stepping around Mathias and leaving. The bell signalled his departure, resonating softly through the room.

Mathias sighed once he was alone and looked around. Compared to the drizzle outside, the wooden room, lit by only a few candles, looked so cosy. Mathias could not help but smile at what his friends had built together, and now he was a permanent part of this. He and Aleks were free to be together, at least within the shop, and they were accepted. Erikur also had a fresh new start in a huge city where anything was possible, and could choose what he wanted to do later in his life. All of them were together and safe and free.

He meandered through the aisles, looking at the different toys Berwald had built, and Tino had painted. He stopped at the china doll collection and smiled; these were his personal favourites. They were so cute, and beautifully made. Mathias silently congratulated Tino on his creations and picked one off of the shelves. It was a little blonde one this time, wearing a dress made of the same materials as the others. Mathias loved the material; it was soft, and red happened to be his favourite colour. He just stood there, taking in every detail of the toy, so entranced that he did not hear the [front door](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=23/#) open. In fact, he did not react at all until a hand was clamped over his mouth and it was too late.

…

"Well I am positive the books will do Charlotte and Yekaterina the world of good, I shall show them to the girls tomorrow, as they are asleep right now and all. It's hard for them to get a decent night's sleep since, well, you know…"

Tino looked at the richly dressed man with neat brunet hair in front of him and wondered if this could possibly be the same little Oscar who had left three years ago to seek his fortune.

"Of course," he said, "just give them back whenever you like. My condolences, by the way, it's hard losing a parent."

"I know," Oscar sighed, leaning against the counter, "I just wish I had not wasted these past years but… I just wanted to make my fortune, [start a business](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=23/#), you know? To keep my family above the poverty line, but in doing so I cut myself off from them and almost forgot to visit, that I even had a family. Now I will never see her again. Who would have known that the last three years were just practice for the real thing?"

Tino placed a hand on Oscar's shoulder; "it will hurt, I know, but things will get better. Although you will never get over the loss, you will learn to live with it, I promise."

"Thank you, Tino," Oscar sniffed.

"Well I should get going," Tino took his hand away and picked up the empty basket.

"Of course, but," Oscar placed both his hands on Tino's shoulders and looked him in [the eye](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=23/#), apprehensive and nervous; "the police have given us the all clear to bury my mother. The funeral's in a few day's time. You will come, right?"

"We will all be there; no one would want you all to do this alone."

Oscar gave a small smile, "thank you."

"So where is William anyway?"

"Asleep after drinking himself stupid and smashing the empty bottles against the wall," Oscar told him, "I only just cleared it up when you walked in. But, fortunately, neither Charlotte nor those new children saw him and I was able to [clean](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=23/#) him up and get him to sleep. Father was never a heavy drinker, so it will be a shock to his body. It was always mother who could hold her liquor well."

"I see he's taking it pretty badly then," Tino sighed, "this just isn't right. It should not be happening."

"But it is," Oscar looked close to tears, "so we all need to figure out why so it can never happen again."

"Don't worry," soothed Tino, "the police will find who did it."

"Let us hope so…"

Tino nodded and opened the door, said goodbye to Oscar, and came face to face with Berwald and Aleks, both of whom had a mixture of shock and irritation on their usually expressionless faces. Now he was in trouble.

"Err, hi, hello you two," Tino tried to look as innocent as possible, "so did you get everything you need?"

Neither said a word; they just continued to glare at him.

"A bit chilly tonight, isn't it?" Tino tried again.

"What're ya doing, Tino?" asked Berwald; Tino found he couldn't look his friend in the eye.

"I was just… lending Charlotte and Yekaterina some of Peter and Lars' books, you know, to help keep their minds off of things. Well, nothing would be able to distract them from what happened but William told me how much they like reading so it was a present for them, but they're gonna give the books back so I thought it was okay and-"

"Is Mathias with you?" asked Aleks, cutting Tino off.

"No he is at home," admitted Tino.

"So you are alone?" asked Berwald, Tino flinched away from the sound of betrayal that was in his voice, "after we agreed to not do 'nything without c'mpany until safer times?"

"Well, I'm not alone anymore now that you two are here!" he reasoned.

Berwald shook his head, "please Tino, this is serious. If s'mething had happened to you…"

"But nothing did happen, see? Here I am. And I can take care of myself, thank you very much." Tino folded his arms; "I am not a child Berwald."

"Neither were any of the other victims," Aleks pointed out. "It does not matter how strong or fast you are, if someone comes up behind you and you were not expecting it, then no amount of physical strength can save you."

"I guess…" Tino sighed; "fine, I will not do it again. Can we go home now?"

"I s'ppose…" said Berwald and the three of them made their way home. They were only a few feet away from the front door when Berwald saw that something was wrong.

"Hey did y'leave the front door open?" he asked Tino, who shook his head.

"Oh no…" breathed Aleks, and he broke into a run, "Mathias!" he called.

Berwald and Tino exchanged terrified glances and followed Aleks into the shop. Immediately, they were greeted with the smell of fresh blood and a crying Aleks, who was kneeling on the floor cradling a bloody Mathias.

"Shit," gasped Tino, who ran over to the two and knelt down beside Aleks.

Mathias was still alive, but only just, and from the red gash in his abdomen, Tino knew that nothing would save him. The wound was deep, and cut through his internal organs; his shirt, and the wooden floor, was stained red. He was pail, breathing shallow and slow, eyes open a fraction as he tried to focus on his partner's face.

"Come on, wake up, please godammit," begged Aleks, who held him close, shoulders shaking as he sobbed. Mathias only smiled, running his trembling fingers through Aleks' hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Aleks shook his head, crying harder. "Don't give up on me you bastard," he spat, "we'll get you to a hospital, get you better, but you just have to hang on."

"Aleksander…"

"Don't say it!"

"…I'm sorry."

"I refuse to give in!"

"…I love you."

"I know, and I love you too. So you have to hang on, please. Hang on for me!"

"Erikur! Arthur!' Berwald roared as he ran up the stairs, trying to wake his friends. Arthur's face appeared in the sitting room doorway and Erikur trudged down the second flight of stairs sleepily.

"What's wrong?" asked Arthur.

"M'thias," Berwald told them; "get the pol'ce, hurry, and the doctors too." Then he ran back downstairs.

Mathias was smiling sadly at Aleks, who refused to let him go. Tino turned to face Berwald and shook his head.

"He won't make it."

"He will!" cried Aleks, "he has to."

Arthur stopped only to glance at Mathias before running out the door to find a policeman. Erikur ran to Mathias' side.

"What the hell happened?" he gasped.

"He was attacked," Tino told him, "probably the same person who killed Jemima."

"There's so much blood;" Erikur knelt down and stroked Mathias' hair.

"Come on old man," he said, tears starting to run down his cheeks, "don't do this to us, old man. We need you. I need you, okay? You are like my dad and big brother rolled into one."

"And it has… been a pleasure to be an… important part of your life. Of all your… lives," Mathias smiled at them all. Aleksander had a hand resting on Mathias' stomach, warm blood dribbling through his fingers.

"Hey what's going on?" asked Peter as he and Lars appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"We heard shouting," added Lars.

"Go t' sleep," ordered Berwald, trying to shoo them back up the stairs and shield them from what was happening.

"No what's wrong?" Peter dodged Berwald and ran to where the others were, then stopped short when he saw Mathias, and the blood. He promptly burst into tears.

"What is it?" asked Lars, struggling to break free of Berwald's arms.

"It's Uncle Mathias! He's hurt," sobbed Peter.

"What? Let me see him!" Berwald sighed and released his son, who ran over to his uncles.

"What happened?" he gasped when he saw Mathias.

"Sorry boys," mumbled Mathias, "gonna… hafta, leave you all now."

"No you are not!' argued Aleks, "I love you to much to see you die."

"…sorry," Mathias whispered again, kissing Aleks' forehead. They'd only just parted when Arthur returned with Ludwig and Eduard, who immediately ran to Mathias' side.

"What happened?" asked Eduard, "please, we need to know."

"Of course," Mathias' words were becoming unclear as he started losing consciousness, "but I didn't see him, if that's what you are asking… was attacked from behind… could not scream for help… mouth was covered by their hand… it felt like a bloke's hand, large, kinda rough… not too much. Then there was this… pain… and I…. wanted it to… stop, more than anything… still hurts… make the pain… go away…" Mathias coughed weakly and looked at his family once last time, "nothin' more to say… love you all… so much."

Then he was gone.

"Mathias? Mathias! Wake up godammit!" Aleks shook Mathias' shoulder gently.

"There's nothing we can do," whispered Erikur, pulling his brother away from the body and into a hug, sobbing on his shoulder.

"Ed, check the surrounding area for any traces the killer may have left," ordered Ludwig. Eduard nodded and stood up.

"I will help," offered Arthur, also rising.

"Thank you."

Tino looked at Mathias' body and shook his head, "who would do such a thing?" he asked.

"I am afraid we don't know, but we're working on it, I promise," said Ludwig, looking around, "I am going to search the building now. I hope that won't be a problem."

"Go 'head," mumbled Berwald, tears slowly running down his face. Tino had only seen him cry once before, when Lars had a fever when he was a toddler and they were not sure if he was going to survive. The sight of Berwald crying scared Tino, more than he wanted to admit. But by now, no one had dry eyes.

"I think you two should go to bed," he told Peter and Lars, who began to protest through their noisy sobs.

"Not just yet, if you do not mind," said Ludwig, "we want statements from all of you and no one is to move until I have searched the place and confirmed that it is safe."

Tino frowned, "are you saying the killer might still be here?"

Peter gave a small squeak and buried his face in Tino's coat.

"Unlikely," Ludwig told them, "the back door was thrown wide open so my guess is that whoever did this escaped through there in a panic just before you came in."

"So we could have caught him is we were paying attention?" asked Erikur in disbelief.

"Now, do not start blaming yourselves," said Ludwig, "Mathias needed you all here, and he was your top priority."

"And I don't like the idea of my little brother trying to face a murderer…" added Aleks.

"Well from what we've gathered," began Ludwig, "this killer is not one for confrontations, preferring to conceal their identity and attacking at opportunistic moments. So it would be more likely that he or she would have fled pursuit in the hopes of throwing you off of their trail."

"I see," Erikur stroked Aleks' hair.

Ludwig picked up something red off of the floor next to Mathias and studied it.

"More evidence?" asked Tino, looking over his shoulder, "hey that's one of my dolls! Aww, the face got cracked."

"This is yours?" asked Ludwig.

Tino nodded, "yes I made it and the others too," he pointed to the shelf containing more china dolls, "hey do you think it was knocked over during the… attack?"

Ludwig shook his head, "there would be more on the floor if that were the case, it is more likely that your friend was holding it at the time and dropped it when he was murdered."

"I see…"

"I'm keeping this, by the way, as evidence," Ludwig informed him.

"Of course…"

It was then that Eduard and Arthur returned.

"Sorry," panted Eduard, "we got nothing."

"We were so close too…" Arthur shook his head, "it's just not fair."

"Nothing is fair," whispered Aleks, "not anymore."


	24. The silence

It was the early hours of the morning when the police finally left, after taking statements, searching the area and removing Mathias' body. The space where he had laid dying was roped off, to stop anyone disturbing the crime scene. The blood was still there, on the floor and [shelves](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=24/#), caked and dried into the wood.

Everyone, except for the two children, who had finally been convinced to go back to bed, was seated round the [kitchen table](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=24/#) in horrified, terrified silence.

"I just cannot understand it…" Tino sighed, shaking his head.

He got no answer except for a sniff from Aleks.

"He was just… so full of life," Tino rested his head in his hands.

No answer.

"Just not right," he mumbled, "the way people carry on like they can get away with these terrible things…"

"They _are_ getting away with these things though," Erikur pointed out.

"But not for long though," insisted Tino, "just you wait, by tomorrow the police will have found them."

"Why the hell are you being so cheerful?" Aleks sullenly glared at Tino before taking another long gulp of beer, his fifth mug.

"Just trying to be positive," reasoned Tino.

"What's the point? It won't bring Mathias back," there was silence for a few minutes. Tino fiddled with his collar nervously before speaking.

"I wish I'd have had more time to get to know the guy. He was just such a lovely man."

"I know, that is why I love him," Aleks glared daggers in Tino's direction.

There was silence again. Tino stared at Aleks as he downed more and more [alcohol](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=24/#). Aleks noticed. He set his mug down he glared across the table at the other man.

"What?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Um, well, I know you probably don't want to hear this…"

"Try me," Aleks smiled dangerously.

"….and I know it must be hard for you right now but you might want to consider slowing down with the [alcohol](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=24/#). It is not good to drown your-" Tino yelped, ducking to avoid the empty glass mug thrown at his head. It hit the wall behind him and shattered.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP TINO!" Aleks was on his feet now, a look of absolute hatred on his face. No one dared say a word.

"YOU CAN'T JUST SHUT UP FOR ONE SECOND, CAN YOU? EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY I CAN HEAR YOU YAPPING ON ABOUT USELESS [CRAP](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=24/#) AND I AM FED UP OF IT!" he lowered his voice, "what do you think you gain from breaking the silence, huh? IT'S YOU FUCKING FAULT HE'S… ALL BECAUSE YOU COULD NOT KEEP YOUR FAT ARSE STILL FOR FIVE MINUTES AND YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ANYONE. HE WOULD STILL BE HERE IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU! STOP ACTING LIKE ALL THIS ISN'T YOUR FAULT! WHY CAN YOU NOT JUST LET ME MOURN IN PEACE! MATHIAS IS… IS…" Aleks shook his head as tears ran down his cheeks then ran from the room.

"Shit," hissed Erikur, who jumped up and followed him.

He found his [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=24/#) in the room he and Mathias shared, throwing anything he could get his hands on at the wall and screaming. Erikur leapt back as Aleks buried Mathias' prize battleaxe deep into the wooden panels, then flinched at the sound of a glass object being smashed.

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!" he bellowed, slamming his fists against the wall, "I DON'T UNDERSTAND IT! I DON'T…" he started weeping again, fists only feebly pummelling the wood now, "he's gone… I don't…"

Erikur walked over to his brother and rubbed his back soothingly.

"How am I supposed to…" Aleks shook his head, "what's the point…" he brushed Erikur's hand away, walked over to his bed- his and Mathias' bed- and flopped down onto the blankets. Erikur followed him and sat at the edge of the bed.

"How do I move on? I just… I always thought he would be there, forever even, going to sleep as joyful as he woke up. Just, trying to make people happy and protect them and that fucking smile that has just draining to look at… and the way he was around children… and his jokes… and how he was like a dad to you… and…" Aleks buried his face in his pillow, "I cannot live without him. And I wish I knew that before… before…"

"I know," comforted Erikur, "you will learn to live without him, but it will take time, so for now just, you know, let it all out," he could feel tears of his own forming in his eyes.

Aleks grabbed one of Mathias' pillows and pressed it to his face, taking in the lingering smell of the one he loved, fresh tears slowly making their way down his face.

"Why would you do that if you knew it would only upset you?" demanded Erikur.

"I just miss him," choked Aleks, "his smell… his eyes… his stupid hair… the way he walked… stood… kissed. If I close my eyes I can imagine him lying next to me, can almost hear him panicking because I am upset. Then I open my eyes and realise he's never going to be lying there again, that I will never see him any more. How can I get over that?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," admitted Erikur, "if I cannot even begin to accept this, then how are you supposed to?" he sighed, pulling his brother into a hug, "we will find a way though, okay?" Neither said another word and at some point they both fell asleep cuddled up together.

…

"T'no… Tino please listen," Berwald sighed as Tino continued to stare into space. He could hear Aleks screaming above them and hoped Erikur could comfort him, and calm him down before he got hurt. Arthur had made his excuses and gone into the sitting room, and his bed on the [sofa](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=24/#).

"Look… I'm sure he didn't mean it. Grief m'kes ya say things ya don't mean…" he got no response again and tried to ignore that small feeling of terror bubbling inside him.

"Tino…?"

"You should have let me die when you had the chance," Tino looked at him with unfocused eyes, "Mathias would still be here if you had."

"What?" Berwald stared at his friend in horror, "you cannot blame yerself Tino, ever, okay? I will never r'gret savin' yer life until the day I die."

"But Aleks is right," insisted Tino, his gaze slowly becoming more and more focused, "it was my fault he was alone tonight… oh god, it really was tonight it happened… if I hadn't have gone out he could have locked the door and that would be that, but he was waiting for me to come back…"

"He was waiting for me 'nd Aleks too…" tried Berwald, "look, Aleks does not blame you for wh't happened, no one does…"

"You should," Tino closed his eyes and felt the prickle of tears. "I disgust myself."

"Don't say that," choked Berwald, "if you had died ten years ago none of us would be here. Lars and I would still be living in tha' tiny room, maybe even in a workhouse," Berwald's face crumpled when he saw Tino flinch at the word workhouse, "and none of us would have 'nywhere ta go."

Tino nodded but said nothing.

"S'not like ya ta not fill the silence," commented Berwald.

Tino only nodded again.

"In fact, you always have something to say," continued Berwald, "how c'me? Yer not someone who wants to be the centre of attention so why do you always m'ke noise? Is it 'lso why ya hum yerself ta sleep?"

Tino avoided his gaze.

"Are ya scared of the silence?" he pressed.

Tino flinched. "N-no, why would you think that?" he laughed nervously, "what is so scary about the quiet? It's not like it can drag you anywhere…"

"Tino…"

"I cannot go back to the silence," whispered Tino.

"What do you mean?" asked Berwald. He was scared now, of what Tino's answer would be.

"I guess I should start from the beginning, shouldn't I?" Tino smiled at him, "I do owe you my life story, after all."

"Whenever you are ready…"

Tino nodded, nervously playing with his hands. "Well, I was born in Finland, the youngest of… I forgot how many siblings. I do not remember much from then, just their kind, happy faces. I remember that we lived on a farm, humble peasants we were. My parents were hard working people and the older children would help them in the field. Those were my earliest memories, the smell of fresh earth and the feel of crisp, cold snow under my shoes as I played with my siblings. We were poor, but very, very happy." He fidgeted in his chair, and could almost feel the snow and earth he walked upon as a child. It was all a hazy, bright memory; a comforting one where he was safe and protected.

Of course, it could never last.

"But one night, our cottage caught fire," he continued, forcing himself to tell Berwald, who just listened silently. "I do not know if it was an accident, or arson, but it claimed the lives of every member of my family, except my mother and myself, of course. I do not know how we escaped while the others burnt, I was too little to remember then, but I do remember kneeling on the ground crying in front of the smouldering ruins and my mother picking me up and carrying me away forever. We left the country after that. I later found out it was because everything and anything there would remind mother of what she had lost."

"So s'rry to hear that," mumbled Berwald, head resting in his hands and lips slightly parted. Tino just nodded in reply.

"So we travelled all over the place, staying in taverns and hotels, finding work where we could. We eventually settled in London, found stable jobs and rented a room. I remember those days clearly; we sometimes had to share our room with another family for a while, if our landlord did not have enough space to rent, which made things crowded and smellier than usual. But it was nice all the same. I met Eduard and we became friends, which I loved because I had never really had anyone my own age to play with." Tino's eyes fell and his lip quivered, "but then mother became ill. See, she worked at the same factory as Peter's mother and she also caught cholera from the dirty pipes and her health went downhill so quickly. I felt completely helpless watching her lie in bed in so much pain, always thirsty, couldn't hold down a meal and then her skin took on this blue tint and everyone said she would die. And she did."

"Tino…" Berwald pulled his friend into a hug whilst the other sobbed.

"I didn't know what to do; my mother was pretty much my whole life then and I just sat next to her, crying, for days afterward, weeks even. I lost track of time, lost my senses. I couldn't bring myself to do anything; I just lost myself in the grief, the pain. For weeks I just lay there in silence. Got fired, because I stopped turning up to work, couldn't pay the rent, so I was kicked out. That was when I finally came to my senses, well, enough to try to survive, though, deep down, I failed to see a reason not to just join my family in the afterlife. But, for some reason, I held on. It was then that I met you and things got better and once again I was part of a family." Tino pulled away and rubbed his hands together nervously, "see, that is why I hate the silence. I am always afraid if I cannot hear signs of life close to me then I will go back to how I was."

"I see," Berwald could not think of anything to say; it was a lot to take in. But he had to at least try to comfort his friend.

"If you ever… feel like yer going back to that… bad place again, jus' tell me and I'll take yer hand and help to guide ya back home. I promise," he took Tino's hand and held it to his chest as if to prove his point, "I'll never leave you alone."

"Thank you," Tino felt tears forming in his eyes. "Damn you," he chuckled, wiping them away with his index finger, "I had only just stopped crying. You're a good friend, Berwald, and, likewise, if you ever need me, I will always be beside you."

"Th'nk you," Berwald gave a rare smile, which warmed Tino's heart.

"Hey I think it is safe to go up," commented Tino, glancing at the ceiling, "we should get some sleep."

"Course."


	25. Like cinamon and fresh bread

It was a cloudy day, light drizzle tickling all the faces present, except for one person. Jemima would not be seeing the rain again.

A small crowd was gathered in a lonely graveyard for her [funeral](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=25/#) and to pay their last respects, support her family and mourn her passing. The church stood behind them, small and lonely, rising above the graves like a solemn guardian.

Aleksander Jensen was amongst his friends, who wiped rain and tears from their eyes and watched William and Oscar carry Jemima's coffin to the hole in the ground where she would be laid to rest, with Tino, Berwald, and two other shopkeepers helping. He could not shake the feeling of dread in his stomach whenever he thought about how it would be him and Erikur doing the same for Mathias in a few days time, when the police would finally give the body back.

But he couldn't think of that now; they were here to support William. Aleks couldn't bear to look at the coffin any longer, so turned his attention to the four young children trailing behind, Charlotte and Yekaterina holding onto Ivan and Natalya's hands and each child carrying a bouquet of [flowers](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=25/#): golden wattles, Jemima's favourite. The girls wore simple black dresses whilst Ivan donned a shirt and waistcoat, probably some of Oscar's old ones. Aleks looked over at Erikur, who was not bothering to hide the tears streaming down his face; he took his little brother's hand in his and gave it a small squeeze. Erikur replied with a grateful smile.

…

After placing her [flowers](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=25/#) on top of her mother's coffin, which was now lowered into its grave, Charlotte buried her face in her father's blazer, covering it in tears and snot; she felt William lift her up and cradle her in his arms. As he buried his face in her curly brown hair, she could feel him soaking it in his own tears. Charlotte curled her hands around her father's neck and hugged him tightly, unable to form words.

Tino saw that Oscar was in just as bad a state: the poor lad had his face buried in a handkerchief to hide his tears and puffy eyes. He walked over and put an arm over the boy's shoulder, pulling him into a hug.

"There, there kiddo," he whispered.

Arthur looked at the solemn priest who was performing the ceremony, talking about heaven and death, and he wondered if anyone was even listening to him. Looking around, he saw Berwald cradling little Ivan and Natalya in his arms, with Yekaterina wailing next to him, clinging to his trouser leg as she stared at the coffin. Arthur walked over to the group and picked up the oldest sibling, hoping she would not be scared of his face, but instead of flinching away, Yekaterina gave him a tight hug, hiccupping.

…

William carried Charlotte all the way home, leading his small family down the road. Oscar carried a sleeping Natalya in one arm, Ivan in the other. It was late afternoon when they arrived at the bakery, which had not been open since the day Jemima had gone missing, and William set the children down in their sitting room to play or read before making his way into his bedroom.

Oscar had cleared the empty bottles and broken glass from the room, so it looked exactly like it always did. William looked at his and Jemima's bed and thought of the last night he saw her alive. Her nose was broken from her fight, and had been covered in a bandage, but she was still beautiful. He remembered kissing her, running his fingers through her dark brown hair, coarse and wild, a bit like Jemima, but William loved it all the same. She had absent-mindedly played with his curly brunet hair, comparing it to sheep's wool just to annoy him, but they had both laughed anyway. Then she said she had forgotten to take the washing in and got up, promising to return shortly.

But she never did.

William could feel the tears reappearing and tried to wipe them away. Sighing, he walked over to the [wardrobe](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=25/#) and took out one of her dresses. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it, but then he looked at which dress it was, a simple, navy blue one, and remembered why it was important.

It was the dress she had been wearing the first time they met.

William pulled the thick fabric to his face and inhaled; it smelt like cinnamon and fresh bread, Jemima's scent.

Before he could help it, William was kneeling on the floor screaming and weeping, holding the dress close to his chest as his shoulders shook with each sob. Without Jemima, all William felt was the misery and pain that was threatening to overpower him completely. He hadn't realised how much room her presence took up, and the house felt empty and flat now that she wasn't there to fill it with her laughter and crude jokes.

"Why?" he whimpered, "why, God? Why did you choose her? Why was her time now? Why not me instead?" William wanted, more than anything, to switch places with Jemima, to give her a chance to live life to the fullest, to find an end for his pain. "OF ALL THE PEOPLE TO TAKE WHY DID YOU TAKE HER?" he howled to the ceiling, and whoever was up there listening, "COULD YOU NOT SEE THAT WE NEEDED HER? COULD YOU NOT SEE THAT I LOVED HER? What am I supposed to do without her?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Oscar standing behind him. He could not help but feel shameful to think of his son having to see him like this, but Oscar did not look at him with pity, only empathy, and pulled his father into a tight hug.

"We will get through this," he whispered, "I promise, old man."

"Hey enough of the old," sobbed William, chuckling slightly.

"Daddy?" the two men turned to see Charlotte standing in the doorway, Yekaterina, Ivan and Natalya crowded behind her.

"Hey sweetie," said William, giving a small smile and holding his arms wide for the four children, who ran over to the two and pulled them into a tight hug. For a few minutes, they just sat there, holding each other close and letting the tears fall, one of the children occasionally giving a sniff or wiping their nose on their sleeves. Then William looked at his children, wiped the tears away and sat them all down in a circle.

"Did I ever tell you about the day your mother and I met?" he asked them. They all shook their head, except Oscar, who scratched his chin.

"Yes but I appear to have forgotten, _do_ tell it again," he said.

"Right, well I was on a ship travelling from Australia to Britain, after moving from New Zealand a few years previously. I was still a boy then and wanted to see the whole world and after spending some time in London, I would travel all around Europe, maybe even go to America or Africa or China. Back then I felt like I could go anywhere." He remembered it well, being a teen and boarding the ship with excitement, wondering what England would be like. He didn't know then that the long months at sea would be such a strain.

"One day, I was standing on [deck](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=25/#), looking at something in the distance- a landmass or sea creature or something, I cannot recall- when this umbrella came at me from nowhere. It was raining dreadfully that day and there was a strong wind, so it must have flown out of someone's hand. In my shock, I somehow managed to catch it by the handle. It was just like a runaway animal and I lived on a farm as a child, so I could do it. The wind tried to snatch it away but I held on, wondering who it belonged to."

"And who did it belong to?" asked Ivan.

"I did not have long to wait to find out, as someone spoke behind me and I came face to face with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. At first I was a bit scared of her; she was taller than me and looked pretty fierce, but she was laughing and shouting over the wind, thanking me for saving her umbrella. I was too shocked to speak, but I eventually found the sense to hand her umbrella back and she held it over both our heads. We struck up a conversation and I found out her name, that she also used to live on a farm and that she was always overshadowed by her little sister so wanted to move, to shine on her own. I told her that was why I left too, my older brother was going to inherit our father's land and I wanted to make my own way. She also spoke of her ambition to run her own bakery. She loved cooking." William looked down at the dress; he was still holding it, gripping the fabric so tightly it might tear. "This was what she was wearing at the time and looked absolutely lovely in it. I remember that her hair was soaked and had blown out of its bun, into her face which made her laugh loudly. We spent the rest of the day in each other's company, wandering below [deck](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=25/#) when the weather got too bad and talking all about ourselves. By the end of the day I felt I knew her more than I knew myself. We were engaged within a month, married the day we arrived in Bristol. Travelled to London, set up our own business, had two beautiful children," he smiled at Oscar and Charlotte at this, "and adopted three more beautiful children," he added, smiling at Yekaterina and her siblings. "You know I love you all so much?"

"We love you too daddy," they replied, crushing him with hugs.

"We are going to be alright," William whispered to himself; "we are going to be all right."

…

Tino took off his coat and scarf, stuffing them under the counter before making his way into the sitting room, where most of his family were gathered, warming by the fire and thinking to themselves. Berwald picked up the newspaper he had bought that morning, but not had time to read, and almost dropped it after seeing the front page.

"They caught s'meone," he cried, hurriedly pushing his glasses up his nose as he read the article, "says here they arrested a Mr Roderich Edelstein on suspicion of murder last night… found him wandering the streets alone… identified the cigarette case as his… apparently he could not provide an alibi."

"Well that's it then," murmured Arthur, "it's all over…"

"Even if it came too late," added Aleks, standing up, "I hope they hang him and pull his guts out." Then he left.

"Who knew that the prissy, posh composer who yelled at me because Lars insulted his son would do such a thing," commented Tino, "didn't think he would ever have it in him."

"Hey, do you think that as why we were targeted?" asked Erikur, "because he disliked you?"

"Oh mo, I hope not," said Tino, looking around in horror, "or what happened to Mathias really will be my fault."

Berwald sighed, "it was n't yer fault Tino," he told him, "but I really cannot see him doing it," he added, "I don't know about his state of mind, but he really does not look strong enough to dr'g people away and do that kind of damage. See, there is a p'cture of him here; I doubt the m'n could cut a cake, let alone…"

"Yeah he does seem a bit… weak-looking," added Erikur, peering over Berwald's shoulder at the paper, "maybe he had an accomplice?"

"Could be," Tino shrugged, "well, we will find out soon enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another miserable chapter, but I promise they will become more action packed and less emotional in the future. This chapter was heavily inspired by the song 'White sparrows' by Billy Talent.
> 
> Oh and the siblings Aus and Nz mentioned in this chapter aren't canon characters from the comics, just random people.


	26. Protecting the innocent

"It was still unfair for Sir to do that to you," grumbled Peter, rubbing his hand. Lars stood next to him outside the 'girls' school entrance, also rubbing his hand and waiting for the girls. Ivan had wandered off a few moments ago, but returned holding a small, yellow [flower](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=26/#), which he handed to Lars.

"Will this make you feel better?" he asked, eyes wide; "flowers always make me feel better but I could only find one so you will have to share, if you want it, that is," he added bashfully.

"It is perfect, thank you Ivan," said Lars, smiling and taking the [flower](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=26/#).

"I think the teacher was really mean to hit you both," added Ivan, "does he not know why you are sad and not concentrating?"

"Probably," Lars shrugged, "but I do not think he cares about my uncle dying, or my best friend, err, my former best friend's father killing him. But you did not need to defend me, Peter, it only made you get caned too," he added, glaring at the older boy.

"Hey, 'tis what [brothers](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=26/#) do, right?" he answered casually, leaning against a lamp post, "I'm sure Ivan here would do the same for his sisters, right?" he asked, looking from Lars to Ivan.

"Yes, of course I would, for Yekaterina, definitely, but Natalya has proven she is pretty fearsome on her own, though if she ever needed me, I would help her. No one would get away with hurting them," there was a venom in his voice, one that caused the other two to shy away.

"Right…" said Peter, it was then that the girls wandered out of the gate and Peter's face brightened a little, "hey Charlotte," he said, "did you have a good day?"

"It was fine, I suppose," she replied, then looked past his shoulder and scowled, "hey isn't that that horrible man's son?"

"Huh?" Peter turned round to find Franz, holding Toris' hand, staring at them nervously from across the street. Lars' face darkened and Peter held his little brother's hand for support.

"What is _he_ doing here?" gasped Lars, trying to force back tears. He couldn't deal with the betrayal. Franz was his first best friend, and the boy had hurt him like this. Surely he'd have known what his father was doing? Why didn't he tell anyone?

"Who is he?" asked Yekaterina, picking up Natalya and holding her close.

"He is Mr Edelstein's son," explained Charlotte, "you know, he one the police arrested a few days ago. He was friends with Lars until we found out what kind of person his father is."

"How horrible," sniffed Yekaterina, holding Natalya closer and taking Ivan's hand, "hey, I think he is coming over here!" she squeaked, jumping up and down slightly.

Peter growled and stood in front of Lars, trying to protect him from the other boy.

"Please," pleaded Franz as he got nearer, "I mean you all no harm and only want to talk." He stood in front of them, wearing his neat [school uniform](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=26/#), hair pulled into two tight plaits, as usual. Toris seemed to have disappeared, probably to give the children some space.

"Huh?" spat Charlotte scornfully, [wrinkling](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=26/#) her nose, "why on earth would _we_ want to talk to _you_? Your father killed my mother."

"And my uncle," added Peter, folding his arms.

"Lies! He is innocent, you have to believe me!" begged Franz.

"Shut up!" Charlotte screamed, lunging forward and striking Franz across the face, "just stop it!" She shoved him and he fell to the ground, dazed and terrified. He tried to shield his face as she threw punch after punch. "Your father is a monster and you must be one too!"

"Charlotte, no!" cried Peter as he tried to pull her off the boy, who was crying now. Lars just looked on, numb and not knowing what to do. Should he defend Franz? Should he enjoy this?

"Franz isn't his father!" Peter continued; "he hasn't killed anyone! Just hear what he has to say! if it turns out to be a load of rubbish, _then_ you can hit him!"

Charlotte glowed at Franz, wanting nothing more than to hurt Franz. _Let's see how Mr Edelstein liked having family brutally attacked…_

"Thank you Peter," Franz gasped, clutching his stomach.

"Save your breath," Peter growled, letting go of Charlotte, "we're just giving you a chance. Mess this up and you'll get worse."

"O-of course," Franz looked down, avoiding the glares of contempt thrown at him and wiping blood from his mouth. "I don't quite know how to prove it, but I promise my father is innocent! You believe me, don't you Lars?"

Lars ducked back behind his [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=26/#). "No," he mumbled.

It was clear his words wounded Franz, more so than any of Charlotte's punches.

"Why should we believe you?" questioned Yekaterina, narrowing her eyes.

"Because I know my father and he would never hurt you mother, or your uncle! He has to get my mother to sort out any bugs he finds in the house and his motto in life is ['make music](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=26/#) not war'. He is a peaceful man and I hope you can see that."

"Yes but people always defend their parents," muttered Lars, moving around Peter.

"And if he had really done it then I would be asking you to see me as a different person from my father and going on about how we are not alike, but I am not. And… and… and I know where he has been disappearing to."

"What?" gasped Lars, "'well why don't you tell the police that? Where has he been sneaking off to?"

"He made me promise to never tell anyone. That is why I cannot say, and I do not really think he will tell the police either," replied Franz sadly.

"But if he cannot give an alibi then he will be sent to prison for life!" exclaimed Yekaterina.

"Actually," contradicted Peter, "I believe he will be executed because he killed people; Uncle Aleks told me that's what happens."

Franz gave a squeak of fright and teared up, "please, you have to help him!"

"Us?" Lars blinked, "what can we do?"

"Catch the real killer!" exclaimed Franz, throwing his arms in the air, "you can find whoever did it for real and tell the police."

"Why us?" asked Peter, "why not you? You have more money."

"Yes, but there are more of you, and I meant for your parents to catch them anyways. They know the area well and I am guessing they have faced hardships in life so know more about matters such as this. I am just a silly pampered rich boy who knows nothing of killers and the streets. But I believe you all can do it. Please, do it for an innocent man condemned to death!" Franz had fat teardrops rolling down his cheeks now, "I cannot bear to see my father hanged like a criminal."

"Uh, well, we will see what we can do," said Lars.

"Oh danke! Thank you!" Franz leapt forward, pulled Lars into a tight hug and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

"Wha-what the hell, Franz?" he gasped.

"Thank you for helping to save my father," Franz hissed in his ear, "he goes on trial tomorrow, so you do not have much time," then he ran back to Toris, who had turned up again and was waiting for him across the street.

…

"Well, should we ask?" inquired Lars as he and Peter walked home; they had already passed the bakery and said goodbye to the others, who had decided that they wanted no part in hunting down a murderer. Charlotte was still seething, and would barely look at Peter as she said goodbye.

"But why do you want to help this kid so badly?" whined Peter, "even if his Papa did not kill anyone, he is still a mean person who shouted at you."

"But Franz is my friend! And if his Papa is really innocent, then we have to save him. You know our fathers would want to save someone if they were innocent, no matter what they have said in the past. So what if Mr Edelstein does not like me? We cannot let him die! I cannot let my best friend, aside from you, go through the pain we are going through!"

"Fine. We tell Papa Tino first though, agreed?"

"Agreed."

"And _he_ can think of a plan to catch the killer," he added.

"Noted," Lars opened the door of the shop and the two boys entered without another word. They found Tino tidying a display of Noah's ark animals near the front of the shop and walked over to him. None of the others were in sight but there were a few people wandering about.

"Um, Papa…" began Lars.

"Oh good you're both home," interrupted Tino, hugging the both of them, "I was starting to get worried. There's a lot for you to do today-"

"Papa I saw Franz today."

"Oh, I see, did he try to talk to you?" Tino turned away from the shelf and crouched down so he was eye level with his sons.

"Yes, he said his Papa never hurt anyone," replied Lars, "and he wants us to find the real killer because his Papa is going on trial tomorrow and will be executed."

"I see," murmured Tino, "and what does he want us to do about it?"

"He said that you and everyone would know how to set a trap or something for the person who really did it," explained Lars, "because you know the area and what the streets are like and stuff."

"Me?" Tino chuckled a little, "so you also think he's innocent?"

"Well… I don't know, but Franz said he didn't and was somewhere else at the time but didn't say where… but I think I believe him."

"To be honest," said Tino, "Berwald and I have also had our doubts about the man. I mean, he seriously does not appear capable of doing such things. Not because he looks kind or anything, but because it would have taken a lot of strength to kill those people, muscle, which Mr Edelstein does not have."

"So you will help him?" asked Lars, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Tino seriously doubted they would catch anyone. If the killer thought they were safe because they were not the one being arrested for it or, even worse, had deliberately framed Roderich, then they would seriously not be stupid enough to kill again, unless they didn't care about getting caught and just wanted to see blood, which would make them seriously dangerous. Tino decided to humour his son, so smiled and nodded. "We will come up with a plan."

"And your job will be to distract Berwald long enough for us to make one."

The three of them yelped in surprise at Aleks' voice; they had not even seen him arrive.

"Oh hey Aleks, did not see you there," Tino frowned slightly, "but what do you mean distract Berwald?"

"Well, I was standing around and happened to be on the other side of the shelf from you, so heard everything you said- by the way, you might want to keep your voices down a bit it you are talking about such subjects- and I am pretty intrigued. I want to help you too, and I am sure Erikur and Arthur will too, but we cannot allow Berwald to know a thing about this."

"Why not?"

"Because… he just won't like it. He does not like dangerous plans and would not want to see us put ourselves in danger," he explained, _he does not want to see you hurt, Tino, because he loves you too much_ , he added in his head.

"But-"

"Please, Tino, can we discuss this elsewhere?"

Tino nodded, "fine."

"How about the kitchen?"

"I don't see why not… wait, we still have a shop to run," Tino looked around; the place was still a little crowded, though no one was paying attention to them. Still, they were needed here.

"Then we will talk about it after closing time, but see if you can shut as early as you can," Aleks turned round to leave, "now, I will find Erikur and Arthur to tell them, but do not breathe a word of this to Berwald."

…

Peter and Lars walked quietly into the workroom after the shop had closed, where they found Berwald chatting to Arthur, who was sitting on Tino's seat, applying new bandages to his head.

"…but surely it woul' be easier to just wear an eye patch," suggested Berwald, but Arthur shook his head.

"That would make me look like a pirate or criminal and, here, image is everything, remember? A bandage makes me look like I was injured bravely fighting for freedom or something; an eye patch just makes me look dodgy. A nuisance, I know, but that is just how things are," when he had finished, he stood up and walked out, briefly greeting Peter and Lars as he left.

"Hey Papa," began Peter, "can you take Lars and me to the park today? It's just, this might be the only nice day left of the year…"

"Hmm… fine. Wouldn' mind getting some air too," Berwald stood up, took off his apron, grabbed his waistcoat and hat from a peg on the wall and followed the two children out the back door, after collecting Hanna and notifying Erikur, who was the first person Berwald could find, that they were leaving. They stopped at the bakery and Berwald told them they could pick a small cake each as a snack, which made the two boys the happiest they had been in days. He tied Hanna to the nearest lamppost and entered the shop.

The inside of the bakery was lovely and toasty after the frosty air outside and they were greeted by William, who was serving customers behind the counter.

"Table for three?" he asked.

Berwald shook his head, "three little cakes ta go, please."

William nodded, "coming right up;" he then turned around and yelled in the kitchen door, "hey Oscar get three cupcakes out here to go."

"Right-ho," came the reply and a few moments later Oscar trotted into the room with a small cardboard box. As Berwald paid and exchanged small talk with Oscar and William, Peter and Lars caught sight of Charlotte manoeuvring in between tables, sweeping the floor.

"Hey Lottie," called Peter, running over to her, "how are you?"

"Huh? Well no different from a few hours ago;" she stopped sweeping and looked up, giving a small smile.

"That's good," said Peter, "so do you want to go to the park with us?"

"No, sorry, I have to help Daddy, but maybe another time."

"Sounds good."

One of the customers, an old lady, glared at them and Peter took Charlotte's hand, walking away.

"What's her problem?" he asked Charlotte once they were out of earshot.

"Dunno," mumbled Charlotte, shrugging.

"So have you told your Papa about Franz?" he asked.

"Your brother's weird friend? The one who's father took mummy away? No, of course I have not," she sighed, "I know you all believe he is innocent and all, but the guy looks dodgy…"

"Well so does my brother but he never hurt no one!" exclaimed Peter.

"Nevertheless, I do not want to see Daddy and Oscar getting into danger so I want nothing to do with this, please."

"Of course, no problem, I will not involve you in this any more," Peter promised her.

"Thank you, hey I think Lars is calling you."

"So he is, cheerio then," Peter ran over to his brother, "yes?"

"Time to go," Lars replied.

"Brilliant!" Peter tugged on Berwald's clothes as he talked to William, "hey Papa, Lars' said we're going now yay we get to go to the park!"

Berwald chuckled slightly and picked his son up, "yes we're goin' now."

Berwald heard a tutting sound next to him and turned to find the same elderly woman from before paying at the counter.

"…child ought to get a beating for being so rude," she mumbled to him, "can't let him go on interrupting you like that."

"Excuse me?" he asked, astounded.

"The child was bad-mannered, he needs to be taught a lesson," she said, like it was obvious, "so he will learn to behave properly. You cannot let him run around the place disturbing people!"

"…actually nobody really minds him here, the place is usually full of my own children running about," interjected William.

"I don't hit m' sons," said Berwald firmly, "if I have a problem with something they do, I tell 'em and they behave. Both my… err… wife and I disagree with hitting children." He knew Tino would object to being called his wife, but 'the man who I live with and am in love with' wasn't an appropriate thing to say in public at all; it could even cause the lady to faint in shock. Then again, that would mean he wouldn't have to continue this rather distressing conversation. But what would the repercussions of admitting something like that out loud be? Scorn? Prison? Getting beaten to death on his way home?

"Well it is clearly not working," snapped the woman. Peter whimpered slightly. She was very small, almost as short as he was, and dressed finely, indicating she was of a higher class than everyone else in the shop. He briefly wondered if she was the queen, but then remembered he had seen photographs of Queen Victoria in books and newspapers and they looked nothing alike. Thank goodness; the real queen wouldn't be so horrible, right?

"That's because I don't have a pr'blem with Peter playing with his friends," replied Berwald calmly.

"Well I do," she shook her head, "children these days… not enough discipline."

"Personally, I think there is too much 'discipline'," commented Berwald, "young people need love and compassion, not hate and cruelty."

William stood, leaning against the counter, unmoving as he listened to the conversation, poised to leap into action if he needed to. He and Berwald were very similar, he had realised over the years; they were both compassionate people and, although Berwald didn't look it, very easy going. But they both had that one topic that just made them turn into this angry, passionate, fierce being. For William, it was women's rights, for Berwald, children. He waited with baited breath to see what would happen next. Berwald wouldn't actually punch an elderly person, would he?

"Who are you trying to be? The next Dr Banardo? Because if you are, go home! We respectable people do not need another foreign fool telling us to look after little criminals."

"If we do not need another Banardo then why do our children still suffer?" Berwald's face was calm as he said it, but William could tell he was close to tears over what he had just heard.

"Because they are wicked!"

Lars and Peter both flinched at this. Were they really wicked? They had tried to be good, so why did this woman say they were still bad? Would they go to hell? That's what happened to wicked people, their fathers had told them.

"No, they are not," Berwald gave one of his trademark glares that could reduce a grown adult to a crying mess, but the woman didn't even flinch, "children are pure and innocent and need love, not hate."

"Pah," the woman shook her head and slowly walked out.

"Are we really wicked?" asked Lars, tugging at Berwald's trouser leg.

"What?" Berwald snapped his head down to look at his son; "no, you could never be wicked, either of ya."

"I'll second that," added William.

"Really?" asked Peter, smiling hopefully.

"Course! Now let's go t' the park."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, historical notes:
> 
> -in Victorian schools, boys and girls had separate entrances, playgrounds etc, which is why Peter, Lars and Ivan were standing outside the 'girls' entrance waiting for the others.
> 
> -Dr Banardo was a charity worker from Ireland who set up homes for poor children so they could have shelter, food, an education and allowed them to develop skills to find employment. He also wrote books on child welfare and was a generally nice guy. The first children's home was set up in 1970 with hundreds more following.
> 
> So yeah things are getting more exciting now, right?


	27. Secrets

"So, you all know why were are here, right?" inquired Aleks, his elbows resting on the [kitchen table](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=27/#), fingertips touching. He, Erikur, Arthur and Tino each had a side of the table to themselves; there was no one else in the house, now that Erikur had just come in to tell them that Berwald had left with the two boys and Hanna.

"To go on a fruitless chase to find a probably long gone killer to save some poncy aristocrat we neither know nor like all to humour young Oxenstierna because his friend says his dad didn't do it?" asked Arthur dryly.

"Precisely," replied Aleks, "but I meant why do _you_ all want to do this?"

"You made me," Erikur told him.

"It sounds kind of thrilling," Arthur admitted, "and it _is_ to save someone innocent, after all."

"I agree," said Tino, "although we no not have much chance of finding anything, it's worth giving it a go. Even if it's just to keep the children happy."

"Well I want revenge, if I can be perfectly honest," admitted Aleks, "I am going to take that battleaxe Mathias kept and sink it into the skull of the bastard who ended his life."

"I see," said Tino, "so, err, why did Mathias even own a battleaxe, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Not at all, it was in case any fights broke out in the pub. All Mathias had to do was pull that thing out from under the counter and any confrontations broke up. Never had to use the thing on anyone even once."

"Wow," gasped Tino.

"So does anyone have a plan? At all?" asked Erikur.

"A big net?" Tino tried.

"It's embarrassing that you even said that," the teen replied.

"Ouch…"

"A trap?" Arthur suggested.

Erikur looked at him curiously, "what do you mean?"

"Well, what about one of us being bait, just wandering around all alone and vulnerable-looking, but with the others nearby, out of sight and ready to attack?"

"That could work," Erikur's eyebrows shot up, "nice going, pirate."

"Oy!"

"But who would be the bait?" asked Tino, who then paled as three pairs of eyes turned to look at him, "what? Why me? No way!"

"Oh come on Tino, you look deceivingly defenceless," argued Arthur, "but you're actually a pretty strong fella."

"And you're a good shot," added Aleks.

"You could hide your gun in your coat and use it for self defence," concluded Erikur, who then added, "and self defence only. Or _you'll_ be the one hanged for murder!"

"Fine, I guess that works," Tino took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, "it's just so scary, the thought of walking alone at night with… a freaking murderer prowling about… n-not that I actually believe he is still out there." He added hastily.

"We will be close to you," Aleks assured him, leaning over and resting his hand on top of the other's, "just out of sight, but we will be able to get to you if you run into trouble."

"Thank you."

"Not at all."

"But you all need weapons too!" Tino suddenly remembered.

"I have my axe," Aleks reminded them.

"And I have a gun," added Arthur.

Erikur frowned; "but what should I use?"

"You can have one of the knives out the kitchen drawer," suggested Arthur.

"That can work."

"But surely Berwald will be suspicious if we all have large bumps in our coats or walk weird or something," Tino pointed out, "and carrying them out in the open is completely out of the question."

"We will hide them in the back garden now and Arthur and I can collect them later," Erikur suggested.

"Good idea," replied Tino, "but where do we tell him we're going?"

"The pub!" exclaimed Arthur, "all of us are going for a drink to relieve our stress or something. He won't want to come and we can say he has to look after Peter and Lars anyway."

"Excellent," murmured Aleks.

"But will he let us go?" asked Tino, "I mean, Mathias went to the pub and got mugged."

"Mathias stayed at home and got murdered," replied Aleks bitterly before standing up; "Berwald will let us all go, but he will be home soon so we do not have much time to prepare. Be ready to leave at nine."

…

"You're not still mad at me, are you?" Tino giggled nervously as he glanced over at Berwald, who glared icily at him over the boat he was nailing together. For ten minutes now, neither had said a word, and a frosty silence hung in the air. There was still half an hour to go before everyone would be leaving, so until then, they were stuck like this. Ever since Tino had told Berwald of their intentions to go to a pub, he'd been silently seething, banning everyone from his workshop, except Tino. Even though it was Tino he was maddest at, he couldn't ban him from his own workshop, so here they were.

Tino painted a tiger next to him, every so often glancing over guiltily, then quickly averting his gaze. He'd only stayed in this awkward situation in the hopes of reconciling with Berwald, but so far he'd been unsuccessful.

Berwald didn't reply.

"I take that as a yes," Tino sighed, turning back to his tiger.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered.

"What do you mean? I'm just going out for a few drinks."

"You're putting yourself in danger…"

"We're just going to relax for a bit…" Tino's heart was beating so fast he feared he'd be sick where he sat; Berwald surely couldn't know what they were up to, could he?

Berwald exhaled sharply, glaring at his hands; "dangerous out there…"

"I'll be fine!" Tino rolled his eyes, "Aleksander needs a break, to just get out and enjoy himself. I'm worried about him!"

"And I'm w'rried about you!"

"I don't need worrying about," Tino rolled his eyes, "there's nothing to worry about anymore!"

"There are people dead, and you're saying there's nothing to worry about? Have y'gone mad?"

"No," Tino shrugged, "but now Mr Edelstein's been caught, there will be no more murders."

Berwald shook his head, pulling his hair in an attempt to stop himself from shaking some sense into his friend. "You kn'w Mr Edelstein didn't do it. One of the victims was attacked outside a pub…"

"And he lived! Anyway, I doubt the real killer would be stupid enough to attack now, since, you know, the police are finally off their case."

Berwald sighed. The large city was home to all sorts of scum, as was any city. It didn't matter if they were in London, Stockholm, New York or Tokyo, there would always be people willing to steal from them, con them, and cut their throats without a second glance and leave them rotting in an alley somewhere. Everywhere, there were killers and monsters that could only truly live at the expense of others. So what if one serial killer was caught? Would that mean no more bloodshed? No! Someone would come along to replace them, just like this killer had replaced Jack the Ripper. Even now, someone was probably being murdered or beaten to a bloody mess by a different person. Life went on, and so did crime. "There 're other murderers out there," was all he told Tino.

"Just you let them stop me," Tino winked, "we'll be in a large group! I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to take us all on."

"What if one of you wanders off? What if you get too drunk to know what's going on and get lost? Please, Tino. I can't…"

"Can't what, Oxenstierna?"

"Lose you." He looked down, playing with his hands nervously.

"You won't," Tino gave a reassuring smile, though he could feel his insides tearing and knotting. He would be fine, wouldn't he? There was no way the real killer would be stupid enough to attack anyone now.

Still, at Berwald's words, Tino couldn't help but picture himself lying dead in a gutter, his friends around him, having arrived too late to save him. Maybe they'd have chased the killer, and maybe the killer would have gotten away safely. Maybe they'd managed to capture and subdue them, and would be in the process of beating them senseless before finally calling the police. Either way, it'd be too late for him. They'd have to tell Berwald eventually. He'd be devastated, and angry. Tino was partially glad he'd not be there to see Berwald's rage, a true, raw grief and fury that would take over him. Who knows what the man would do if Tino actually died?

He pictured his body, cold, mangled and leaking blood, eyes open and staring up in fear, but pearly and unseeing. His chest and stomach would be ripped open, organs spilling out and staining his clothes. Berwald would kneel next to him, crying silently, sobbing onto his bloody chest and clutching his coat feebly whilst the others just let him, not having the heart to disturb him. They'd be too scared to. Then the police would eventually prize Berwald off him, and take Tino's body to be picked clean of any evidence not already contaminated by Berwald's hands. Then he'd be given back and buried, just another victim of this invisible killer, like how his mother had succumbed to her own invisible killer.

No, that wouldn't happen!

He was strong! He could look after himself. Even if the last few years living as a shopkeeper had softened him, he wasn't defenceless!

"Scared…" Berwald admitted.

"Don't be! I'm tougher than I look. No one will dare mess with me," he said that last sentence to himself, rather than Berwald.

"You're 'nly alive because of me…"

That hurt. Tino glared at his friend harshly, watching as the other man shrank back, obviously regretting what he said. "There's no need to hang _that_ over my head," he spat.

"M'not… not… I just don't know what else t'say! You're not invincible, Tino!"

"Never said I was…"

"But you act like it! D'ya not remember what it's like to believe you're going to die? Don't you get scared of being in danger? Why are you doing this?"

"You're over-reacting," Tino rolled his eyes, though he was losing confidence fast; "I'm just going out with the boys for a few hours."

"Will you just listen to me!" Berwald jumped up, glaring at Tino. The other didn't shy away, and instead got up, scrambling onto his stool so he was taller than his friend.

"I'm all ears!" he shouted back.

"I don't want to be in a p'sition where I don't know if you'll make it back alive! I don't want you travelling around at night where you can get killed! I don't want to see you h'nging onto life by a thread again!" His breathing was laboured, expression a terrifying mixture of rage and terror. "Y'nearly died ten years ago and you could tonight!"

"I could have died at any point in between," Tino shrugged, "why are you worried about me all of a sudden?"

Berwald paused, rubbing his lower face with a hand; "I've always worried about you… something about you… it attracts trouble."

"Oh nonsense! You're being paranoid!"

"Our friend is dead!" Berwald cried, "and you're acting like nothing's wrong!"

"Now I never said-"

"Do you have a death wish? I'm pretty sure the whole lot of you do! Wandering around at night drunk…"

"We'll be fine," Tino put his hands on his chubby hips, "and even if I die, so what? It'll cheer Aleks up at least."

Berwald looked like he wanted to come over there and strangle him. His eye twitched and he shook his head.

"You're going with someone you believe wants you dead? Why?"

"Can't tell you," Tino looked away, sniffing, "it's a secret."

"I don't trust Aleks with you. Not anymore. He's planning something, I know it."

Tino gulped, "seriously," he began, voice shaky, "you're paranoid. Aleks is my friend!" Aleks wasn't planning this whole thing to just kill Tino off, was he? Tino had been certain his friend had forgiven him, but now he wasn't so sure.

"I don't know what to say to you…"

"I'd prefer it if you said nothing else on the matter." Tino meant it. He'd not realised how upset Berwald would get, and the man's words were only succeeding in chipping at his confidence, bit by bit. And he didn't even know the full story…

"Don't be difficult…"

"You're the difficult one here!" Tino cried; "why are you getting so upset over something so small?"

Berwald's eyes widened as he hastily looked away.

"Well?"

"I…"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared!" Berwald glared at him furiously, not realising what he was saying, "if something happened to you, I'd never be able to live with m'self!"

"Nothing will-"

"It could! And th'n what? I'll have to bury you? Tino, I can't afford to lose ya!"

"You won't."

"I know. Not w'thout telling you…" he stopped suddenly.

Tino looked at him curiously. "Without telling me… what?"

Berwald covered his mouth with his hands.

"Berwald?"

"Without telling you that I…" He seemed at war with himself, wondering if what he was about to say would convince Tino to stay, or ruin him for good.

"Please tell me."

"I…"

"Tino, it's time to go," Aleks poked his head through the door.

"Oh, of course," Tino hopped down from the stool he was still standing on, fiddling with the straps of his apron and appearing to ignore Berwald completely. When he'd removed the garment, he placed it on a peg and followed Aleks through the door.

"Please," whispered Berwald, "just stay."

Tino pretended not to hear him.

Berwald stood in his workshop in stunned silence for what felt like hours after Tino left, horrified and disgusted with himself for almost spilling his deepest, most closely-guarded secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but the idea of Tino going on a dangerous mission after fighting with Berwald was just too tempting.


	28. Who's to blame?

Arthur peered over the fence to check the coast was clear before quietly climbing over the wall into their back garden. Erikur stayed crouched on the alley floor looking around for anyone coming their way but the whole place was deserted. Glancing around, Arthur ducked behind the outhouse to where their weapons were hidden under an old blanket and passed them one by one to Erikur.

They tried to be as quiet as possible, but the noise still woke up Hanna, who bounded over to them, yapping happily.

"Shhhhh!" hissed Arthur, "bad dog, sit!"

She didn't listen, too busy trying to jump on him to care. The sound of a chair scraping came from inside the house and Arthur, carrying Tino's gun, ducked in between the outhouse and the wall whilst Erikur threw himself flat on the ground.

…

Berwald squinted through the gritty, [glass window](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=28/#) but saw nothing out of the ordinary, except Hanna running in circles, barking madly. He frowned, and opened the door, stepping outside. The night air was chilly and full of a mixture of different city smells, few pleasant. Berwald shivered in his thin shirt, tucking his hands under his armpits and wishing he had thought to put on his coat, or at least a waistcoat.

Hanna stopped for a moment before bounding over to him; he crouched down and allowed her to lick his face, chuckling slightly.

"Wha' was that all about then, girl?" he asked; all he got in reply was a yap, "did ya see something?" his smile fell as he realised what he had just done. Something had disturbed the dog and now he was standing alone in his garden. He quickly looked around before picked up Hanna and hurrying inside, locking the door.

And he thought Tino was the reckless one…

…

Arthur exhaled in relief and climbed over the wall, turning to face Erikur, who was slowly picking himself up off the ground.

"That was close," he whispered, "bloody dog."

"Come on, the others will be worried about us," replied Erikur picking up the axe and his knife, allowing Arthur to carry the guns.

After a few seconds, Arthur noticed the other was falling behind. He glanced behind him to see Erikur ambling along the cobblestones, trembling.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Erikur looked up nervously, squirming under the other's gaze.

"Well?"

"I'm scared," he admitted.

"Of what?" scoffed Arthur; "oh don't tell me you're afraid of the dark!"

"Of course not! It's just… murderers, weapons, death, that's not part of my life! I'm just a kid, and I know I try to act like the rest of you, but to be honest, I don't belong here! All this messed up shit is too much for me to handle!"

"We're trying to catch a murderer, of course it'll be scary," Arthur sighed, "I have to say though, you've handled everything so far excellently, and I commend you for that!"

"Really?" Erikur looked at him hopefully.

"Really," Arthur walked over, tucking one of the guns under his arm in order to ruffle the boy's hair, "chin up, you're a young man, not a boy." So many things about Erikur reminded Arthur of Peter, and that made him want to protect and help the boy, but he was also his own person: a fiery man who was capable of doing great things. Arthur himself was scared, and didn't blame Erikur for being so too.

"Come on," he began, "the others are waiting for us."

They jogged around to the front of the house and the deserted street where Tino and Aleks waited impatiently for them. They divided up the weapons and began to talk in low voices about their route, signals and other important topics.

…

Yekaterina reached for the [door handle](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=28/#) and paused, lip quivering. She wrapped her coat tighter around her and adjusted the small bag full of the toys and clothes Mr and Mrs Davies had bought for her in the weeks she had lived with them, along with her notebook and pencil, some food and a few coins she had saved up. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she did not want to do this at all; it was cold out there and, if what she had heard earlier was correct, there was a killer still on the loose, but it was the only way for her precious little siblings and new family to be safe. Yekaterina hoped the kind baker who took them in would still be a good dad to Ivan and Natalya and not miss her too much, and maybe Ivan and Natalya would begin to see Charlotte as being their older sister, hopefully enough to push her out of their minds completely so when they think of their older sister, it would be Charlotte who first comes to mind, not her. She would fade away from their memories, for their sakes. Yekaterina wondered, not for the first time, if this was the right decision. No, it was for the best, and the only way to protect everyone. Sighing, she reached for the handle again.

"What are you doing?" came a hushed voice from behind her. Jumping slightly, Yekaterina turned to see Charlotte standing behind her in a cream nightdress and slippers, her hair in a side ponytail out of the way.

"Are you running away?" asked Charlotte when Yekaterina didn't reply. The girl found that she could only nod as an answer.

"But why? That would make daddy sad and he only just stared smiling again," Charlotte leaned forward and held Yekaterina's hand to make sure she didn't try to run.

"But I cannot stay here; it would only hurt you all, in the end," Yekaterina told her miserably.

"Leaving would hurt us," argued Charlotte, "we would all worry about you and cry, and bad things could happen to you!"

"But it is the only way…"

"The only way for what?"

"For you to be safe."

Charlotte frowned, "why?" she asked.

"Because I am cursed," admitted Yekaterina.

"What?" Charlotte blinked, "there is no such thing as curses. Unless you mean the kind of curses mummy said when she accidentally burnt herself on the [oven](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=28/#), but I think you mean bad luck curses, right?"

Yekaterina nodded, "all the people in my life suffer and even die. I must be cursed, that is why my parents died and Ivan and Natalya almost starved and your mother died. It all makes sense. Ever since I arrived here I have brought nothing but bad luck on you all. I have to go before someone else gets hurt. I love you all too much to see you die." She twisted her hand out of Charlotte's grasp and opened the door.

"Wait! Please don't leave!" Charlotte grabbed Yekaterina's coat, "you are not cursed, and there is no such thing. Things happen because of fate or God or something, not you. People die all the time. It is a murderer who killed mummy, not you, unless you are the murderer, but I do not think so because you are little and sweet."

"You really think so?" asked Yekaterina, closing the door.

"I know so."

"Hey what are you two doing up so late?" asked William, sleepily wandering into the room carrying Jemima's cricket bat, "I heard voices down here and thought it was a burglar," he explained.

"Daddy, tell Katty she is not cursed," said Charlotte.

"Huh? Cursed? Well of course she is not, why do you ask?" William scratched his head in confusion.

"Katty's leaving because she thinks bad things are happening to everyone because she is cursed," answered Charlotte.

"What?" William dropped his bat and darted over to Yekaterina, lifting her up and holding her close, "never say that again. You are not the reason Jemima died; please, you cannot leave us, precious daughter."

"But what if someone else gets hurt?" asked Yekaterina.

"Then it will not be your fault," replied William, "these things happen but we must never blame ourselves. And I do not think I could handle another family member leaving, so you have to stay, promise?"

"I promise," mumbled Yekaterina.

"Good," murmured William, setting her down, "now, both of you off to bed, this instant."

"Yes daddy," they both chanted, running up the stairs.

William smiled and began to follow them but paused when he heard low voices talking outside. Frowning, he picked up his bat the snuck outside.

…

"Are you sure you do not want me to draw a map for you?" The four men were standing huddled together on the pavement, weapons hidden in their coats and a plan slowly falling into place.

Tino groaned; "Arthur, please, I know this area like the back of my hand, I think I will be okay without a map."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"Great, so Erikur and I will be travelling on your left, Aleks on your right. Are you sure you will be alright on your own?" he asked, turning to Aleks with a concerned look on his face.

"Yes, I will be," Aleks sighed, "I am always aware of my surroundings and will never let anyone have an opportunity to attack me," _not that I particularly care_ , he added in his head.

"If you say so…" Arthur looked around then cleared his throat, "all right men, we're off."

…

They had been at this for at least half an hour now, Aleks was certain of it as he ducked into the next alley, stepping over rubbish and dirty water. He saw Tino walking quietly down the street and caught sight of Erikur, who was peering at the road from a small side lane across the street. Smiling to himself, he turned and tiptoed around the back of the buildings lining the road into the alley that ran parallel to the street but instead of searching for the next opening to where Tino wandered, he started in the opposite direction towards the river.

"Mathias would not approve of this," he murmured to himself, "and I know that by leaving I put Tino in danger, but it's the only way."

He could almost feel Mathias next to him, begging him not to do it, but he shook his head, "…I'm sorry," he whispered, "I love you." He could think of no other way to stop the pain. He felt utterly hopeless, angry with himself for letting one of the two people he cared about most be torn away. He felt empty without Mathias' presence, and the grief was consuming him fast.

"Going somewhere?" came a voice from behind him. Aleks gasped and wheeled round, pulling the axe out of his coat.

"William?" he hissed, "what are you doing here?"

William chuckled, leaning against a wall, cricket bat in hand, "making sure you do not do something stupid," he replied, "you know, your friends talk quite loudly, and I could not help overhearing that conversation you all were having right next to my house and was intrigued by what you are all planning. So I thought I would join in and, as you were on your own, I decided to back you up."

"Well, thanks," Aleks replied.

William sighed, "Aleksander, I know what you are planning to do but jumping in the Thames will not solve anything. Believe me."

"How did you know?"

In the dim light, Aleks could see William's lips pulled into a grimace, and the sorrowful, knowing look in his eyes. "I know you think you're a mysterious man, Jensen, but I can read what you're feeling. The way you carry yourself, and that look. You're forcing yourself to do something you don't want to do because you're not yourself."

"It will end my pain," Aleks told him, "and I can be with Mathias again."

"But what about the people you would leave behind?" pressed William, "huh? What about Erikur? He will be hurting enough without you dying too. The kid has already lost one brother, why make it two?"

"Don't try to guilt me," Aleks snarled, "I feel bad enough as it is. I know it'll hurt Erikur, but I have no other choice!"

"There's always a choice, Jensen. You may feel your time is up, but you're needed here!"

"I never thought of that," admitted Aleks.

"Well, luckily, I thought of it just in time," William sighed again, "more than once."

"Oh?"

"I was the same as you, Aleksander; I thought death was the answer," said William sadly, "there I was, standing on that bridge looking down at the water, mind too numb to come up with rational thought, just standing, building up the courage to go through with it when I finally started thinking again, and asked myself, _what are you doing William? What will your children think? They need you more than ever and you are just going to abandon them?_ And then I wondered when this would stop, what if Oscar decided he could not cope losing both parents and being stuck with the little ones and jumped too? What would happen to that others then?"

"Oh, I had no idea…"

"And if you think you're in pain now, it'll be nothing compared to hitting the water. You might not die immediately! Hitting that water would cause you so much pain before you finally drowned! And keep you alive long enough to regret what you did. You'd be begging for death for a whole different reason then."

Aleks couldn't form words, and just settled for nodding.

"Just do not leave this world behind, okay? Mathias will still be waiting for you on the other side, but he would want you to live and be there for Erikur, and Tino, and Berwald." William placed a hand on Aleksander's shoulder, "we all need you here, and right now Tino needs you to protect him from whatever evil has befallen us." He took Aleks' hand, leading him towards the main street, "come on, we have a killer to catch."

…

"… then I slipped down to the ground an' crawled in amongst the trees, an' sure enough there was Tom Sawyer waitin' fer me." Berwald closed the book, and looked at his two sons. They were cuddled up in the same bed with Hanna sleeping peacefully between them. Mr Puffin was perched on top of the wardrobe, eyeing Hanna wearily and had not moved from there since the dog had first entered the house. He waited for them to pester him into reading the next chapter of Huckleberry Finn, but they remained quiet, only thanking him for reading a story to them.

Strange. Everyone seemed to be acting out of the ordinary today. Berwald was still shaken from his fight with Tino, surprised at himself for saying so much in one conversation, and at how dismissive Tino was. He almost told Tino he loved him, and now he was sure the other hated him. What if he just decided to leave? Find a new home? It would be Berwald's fault for pushing him away.

"Are you two okay?" he asked nervously, the boys had been acting strange all evening ever since the others had left for the pub. Sure, he was worried about them too, especially Tino, even though the man could hold his liquor exceptionally well and was pretty tough, but it was not like the two children to be so silent.

"Yes, we are fine, Papa," they both said, a little too fretfully for Berwald's liking.

"Are ya still ups't abou' that woman today?" he asked.

"Yes, of course Papa," replied Peter.

"That's it," added Lars, giggling nervously.

Berwald sighed, "what is it really?"

"Nothing!" they both chanted.

Berwald glared at them.

"It's nothing, really!"

More glaring.

"We are not allowed to tell you," Lars finally admitted.

"Why?"

"Because we will get in trouble and everyone would be sad," answered Peter.

"Who said that?"

"Papa and Uncle Aleks."

Berwald groaned, he should have known those two were up to something; "they never went to the pub, did they?"

Peter and Lars shook their heads.

"So where are they, then? Are Erikur and Arthur with them?"

Peter and Lars said nothing, avoiding his gaze.

"This is serious boys, I have ta know!"

"They are all trying to catch the murderer," Lars blurted out.

"What?" Berwald felt the blood drain from his face and his entire body turn to ice.

"They are setting a trap for them and Papa Tino's the bait," added Peter.

Berwald stood up, running his hands through his hair, "'nd ya never thought to tell me?!" he yelled at his children, who ducked under the covers.

"But Uncle Aleks said not to tell you!" argued Lars whilst Peter whimpered.

"And ya listened to him?" Berwald sighed, "please, ye have ta tell me if things like this happen. And Tino is the bait? Why would Aleks do that?" Berwald groaned; he should've known not to trust Aleks. "I h've ta find them. Tino could be in trouble. But I can't leave ya here on yer own." Berwald pulled back the covers on Peter and Lars' bed, "get up, I have ta hide ye."

"What? Why?" whined Peter.

"So yer safe and out of danger," Berwald gathered all the blankets, "take Hanna 'nd Puffin too," Lars nodded and picked up Hanna whilst Peter tried to coax Mr Puffin from his perch. Eventually the bird flapped onto his outstretched arm. He followed his father and brother downstairs to their storage cupboard and frowned.

"We have to hide here?" he asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"Yes, ye will be safe here as long as you do not leave," he sighed and knelt down so he was eye level with his sons, "you have to stay here and be safe. Do you understand the situation? I have to find Tino and m'ke sure what happened to Mathias does not happen ta him. I've already lost m'sister, my dear friend and maybe even my best friend. I cannot loose m'sons too." He seemed close to tears now.

"We will stay here,' promised Lars.

"And ya won't leave?"

"We won't," Peter assured him.

"Good, now do not leave the cupboard and if ya hear anyone come on the house then be as quiet as possible and turn off yer light," Berwald fished a small lantern from one of the boxes in the cupboard and handed it to Lars then shut the cupboard door and ran to get his coat.

Lars turned on the lantern and looked around at the cupboard. It was dark and dingy, covered in cobwebs and full of all sorts of things, from old clothes and paperwork to their large metal bath tub. He wandered to the back where he found an old box full of his baby things whilst Peter set the blankets down to make a bed and Hanna sniffed everything in the room. He opened the box and dug through tiny items of clothing and broken toys until he found it: his old cradle; made by Berwald as a present to his parents, still beautiful and detailed even after all these years. Holding it close, he returned to his brother and sat down.

"Hey watcha got there?" asked Peter.

"M'cradle," mumbled Lars, "had it since I was a baby, Papa Berwald made it. Helps me feel safe." He hugged the wooden cot tighter, "I just wish Papa Tino and Papa Berwald had something for them to be safe."

"Hey they _will_ be safe," insisted Peter, "they will be home within an hour, trust me."


	29. Our position in life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muhammad- Egypt

Florenza could not help the fat teardrops that fell onto the paper she was holding, smudging the drawing of her and Ludwig. She had planned to show it to him after the play to see if he liked it; Ludwig had mentioned before that he wanted to see what she drew and said that she was probably an excellent artist. She'd hardly been able to wait to see his reaction.

But he had never turned up.

He said he would let nothing stand in the way of seeing her perform as Juliet, but she had not seen him in the audience, or after the show. So now she was sat miserably on the floor backstage, still in costume, sobbing to herself, face blotchy and red. The room she knelt in had a warm glow, and there were costumes from all ages, bits of scenery, and an assortment of props everywhere. This was her world and she had been looking forward to showing it to Ludwig, letting him be a part of that world. But he clearly did not feel the same way. She should have known he would not, they were too different.

"Are you okay?" came a calm voice from across the room. Florenza looked up and saw Muhammad, the backstage assistant, standing in the doorway.

"Yes I-," Florenza sighed, "could you get my [brothers](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=29/#) please?" Muhammad nodded and left, returning a few moments later with not only Lovino and Salvatorio, but Antonio and Sadik too. Even Kiku and Heracles appeared in the doorway. They were all still wearing their costumes; Lovino looking splendid dressed as Mercutio. Salvatorio was dressed as a humble servant, but he still looked adorable.

"Florrie?" he gasped.

Lovino ran to her side and crouched down beside her; "what happened?" he asked, voice full of concern.

"He never came," she sobbed, "he said he would not miss it for the world but he did."

"Maybe he was busy?" suggested Salvatorio.

Florenza shook her head; "he said he would not miss it for the world," she repeated.

Sadik sighed and joined them in the centre of the room, "look, should we all go over to his place and beat him up for you?"

"Sadik Adnan!"

"I was joking!" Sadik laughed loudly, patting Florenza on the back, "look, we'll just go over to him and say 'that's no way ta treat a lady' and demand an explanation from him."

"Maybe he was tired of Shakespeare?" suggested Heracles quietly to Kiku.

"But we do Wilde and others too," the shorter man reasoned.

"We could try talking to him," reasoned Lovino.

"Whatever we decide to do," grumbled Salvatorio, "it better be after we all change. I feel really daft in this outfit."

Florenza sniffed, and then nodded, "but be nice!"

"And if he hurts you…?" Sadik looked at her with concern, and malicious anticipation.

"Do whatever you want to him."

…

Ludwig ran his hands through his hair and groaned. There was only one place he wanted to be right now, congratulating the girl he loved on her flawless performance, not here: a prison, interrogating a killer. A killer who was to go on trial the next day, who would not admit he was guilty, let alone give any clues as to why he ended the lives of- what was it?- ten people, plus one attempted murder! Both sexes, ages ranging from fourteen to forty-five, all lower middle class, and Ludwig wanted to know why they had been targeted. He even knew a few of the victims; well, he had talked to them, visited their businesses, and had even struck up a few acquaintances with them. And this man sitting across the desk from him was the reason they were all dead. It made him sick.

Roderich Edelstein was a complete mess. His overalls didn't fit his delicate, slender frame, and were a long way off from the violet, tailor-made suit they had found him in. His wrists were red and sore from the handcuffs and his face was dotted with cuts and bruises from where Ludwig, and other police officers, had lost their temper from his lack of answers. He was still looking around the small, dingy room they were in with dull eyes and an expression of disgust, like it was the dirtiest, most disgusting place he had ever set foot in, and it probably was, considering who he was. He had even, on several occasions, had the nerve to complain about his food, his cell, even how he was being treated. Ludwig wasted no time in mentioning how it could all be over if he just admitted he'd done it. But he never would, still claiming he was innocent.

Now Ludwig had missed his lover's performance and he was really getting irritated with the composer.

"Look, we found your cigarette case near one of the bodies," he pressed, glaring at the insolent man in front of him, "you said it yourself it belonged to you. Just confess. You have no defence, no alibi, and no fucking case."

"What appalling language," sniffed Roderich, inspecting his fingernails. Ludwig growled, and before he knew it his hand had collided with Roderich's face for the third time that night.

"That hurt!" protested Roderich; "is that any way to treat your prisoner?"

"I would think, given the circumstances, that I was being nice," hissed Ludwig through gritted teeth, "I mean, is this any way to treat innocent people?"

Ludwig pulled a collection of small photographs out of his pocket and scattered them onto the table.

"And these are…?" Roderich picked one up and, due to the loss of his glasses, which were being kept as 'evidence', had to hold it close to his face and squint, "that is just disgusting!" he dropped the photograph in shock and horror. "Are they all like… like… this?" he gasped, indicating to the other photographs.

"Yes, each one is a different life brutally cut short, by you," Ludwig told him.

Roderich looked with unfocused eyes at the photographs, each one showing a dead body, all the same, pale, ghostly, each with horrific knife wounds. Amongst them were Luca, Jan and Eva's little [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=29/#), Francis, Jemima and Mathias. They stared at the camera with blank, unseeing eyes.

"I did not do this," gasped Roderich, "how could anyone do this? Why? What had these people done?"

"They tried to make better lives for themselves and their families. All their stories are pretty much the same, born in extreme poverty, using their talents to get jobs, careers, and a decent place in society." _All except that Mathias_ , Ludwig added silently _, he seems to be an anomaly, having never pushed his way up the class system. Mathias had a business passed down from his father, but maybe the killer thought that when he lost the pub he should have just gone to a workhouse instead…_ _Did they even have workhouses in Denmark?_ "And it is aristocrats like you who are so against that. You think they are a threat to your wealth and status, worried that once the people become educated that they will see what corrupted hypocrites you are."

"Outrageous!" Roderich stood up sharply, swaying slightly and slamming both hands on the desk, "you talk like you think I do not know who you are, Ludwig Beilschmidt, the half-Junker, set to inherit a nice country estate in the south of Bavaria, so I hear." Ludwig paled, "yes my wife knew you as a child. So if you think you can get away with demonising the upper-classes then you have another thing coming. You also belong to that group, do not forget that. Besides, I was not born into wealth, if you must know."

"Oh?" Ludwig looked at him curiously.

"Well," Roderich sighed, "I was born the son of a poor cleaner and his wife. My father worked with a broom and duster all day in a-err, certain type of evening club. One day, the piano player in the-err club dropped dead and there was no one to play in the evenings. They had placed adverts in shop windows and papers, but no one responded. So, the management got my father, taught him a few simple tunes and pushed him on stage. He was good, brilliant even, well as brilliant as one can be playing the simple notes he did. He picked up the music no problem at all and the people loved him. So much so that he became the permanent piano player there, learning more complicated melodies, symphonies, anything he could find, working up a reputation for himself. He taught me how to play, sometimes we played together for small crowds and I turned out to be just as capable as he was. So much so that I soon became bored of other people's work and started creating my own. Well, I did performances, small venues at first, but soon I was getting bookings every night and becoming one of Vienna's top musicians! People were coming from all over Europe, from America even, to see me play. And I began touring, buying property, keeping my family in the lap of luxury and whatnot. I have worked hard to create a life for myself and I would not do anything to ruin that. So why would I kill people just like me? Why would I get in the way of dreams when I know what it is like to have one? If you do not believe me, then you can ask my wife, Elizabeta."

Ludwig listened to all of this silently; it more or less confirmed his doubts about the man in front of him. He had never truly believed Roderich did it, but just wanted to hold onto that tiny shred of hope that he had saved lives and caught a murderer, that he had made the world a slightly safer place for Florenza and her brothers. But it seems he was mistaken. Then a thought struck him: why did Mr Edelstein's wife's name sound so familiar to him? No, it couldn't be…

"I'm sorry, what was your wife called again?" asked Ludwig.

"Elizabeta," replied Roderich, "I do believe I have mentioned that you are familiar with her."

"Elizabeta Hedervary?" Ludwig was breathing rapidly now.

"Well, Elizabeta Edelstein now, but yes, I believe that was her maiden name," Roderich frowned, looking at Ludwig.

Ludwig shook his head, hardly daring to believe the evil thought that was forming in his mind, surely not… but it had to be… of course. It all made sense now, why those people had been targeted, why Roderich's cigarette case had been found go easily… It all fell together nicely, or horribly.

"So Roderich is innocent…?" he breathed.

"That is what I have been telling you for days now!" cried Roderich, raising his hands as high as the cuffs would allow in frustration.

Ludwig jumped up and ran to the door; "dammit," he hissed, "I have to find him."

"You know who did it?" asked Roderich boredly.

"Yes, and I have to get to them before they escape the country or do something dangerous," he replied, sprinting out of the room. He ran down dingy corridors to the front door of the prison, where Eduard was waiting outside, reading a newspaper under the glare of an oil lamp.

"Eduard, follow me, quickly," he cried, running past his partner and grabbing his hand, ignoring Eduard's protests, "we got the wrong man!" he cried.

Eduard's mouth dropped and he almost tripped, "but… how?"

"It all makes sense now… I was too blind to see… we have to do something before it is too late!"


	30. Tensions running high

Tino did not like this one bit, not at all. He hated the echoing sounds his footsteps made as he wandered slowly through paved streets, constantly on edge and jumping at the smallest of sounds. He did not like the way he instinctively reached for the gun in his coat every time someone walked past him, even though all they did was touch their hat as a greeting. He had never felt so tense, so downright terrified in all his life. Sure, although he always tried to be brave in the face of danger, there had been plenty of moments in his life when he had been scared. But nothing like this. The street lights glared down on him, exposing and blinding him. And beyond that? Just darkness, and who-knows-what lurking within it.

He looked around at the dingy road he was treading in. It was narrow, dirty and he felt a malevolent presence in the air. They were nearing the slums now, and Tino of all people knew how dangerous those places could be at night and did not want things to go as far as him, or his friends in the shadows, being at risk from more than one, single killer.

He wanted to run home, to patch things up with Berwald and hide in the safety of his house with his family, warm and content.

But he had a mission to complete, and he refused to let his friends down because he felt scared; that was not the sort of person he was. Sighing, Tino turned a corner and continued on his nerve-wracking quest.

…

"Can you see him?" Arthur hopped from foot to foot as he watched Erikur creep towards the entrance of a side street to check on their friend. He always made Erikur check, not out of cowardice, but so he could keep an eye on the kid. He knew what it was like worrying about a younger [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=30/#) and wanted to make sure Aleks never lost his. Erikur peered into the street and nodded.

"Yeah," he whispered back, "he don't look too happy but he's holding his own."

"Good, good," Arthur muttered, relaxing.

He felt a hand clamp over his mouth and pull him backwards.

…

Aleks ducked around a corner and crashed straight into Ludwig. He was immediately on guard, pulling his axe out of his coat once again whilst William raised his cricket bat. They pointed their weapons at the man in front of them, who shook his head.

"Only me! Put your weapons down, please!" hissed Ludwig, raising both his arms. Eduard peered curiously at them from behind his partner.

"You?" scoffed Aleks, "what are you two doing here?"

"Trying to arrest someone," Ludwig replied, and then added at the questioning stares, "I have figured out who this murderer is and need to find him quickly. It turns out Mr Edelstein was innocent, framed even, and we have to bring the real killer to justice before he escapes or kills again."

"Well look no further," whispered Aleks, "we are also trying to catch the killer, see?" he grabbed Ludwig's elbow and dragged him to another alley where they could see Tino wandering, "we have set up a trap with live bait, stay here and we shall see if your guess is correct."

"Look, I do not think-" Eduard began.

"Surely it would be safer to be in a group," said William, "and where else do you think this killer will be?"

"Fine, I will stay," Ludwig sighed.

…

"Come on Berwald, see reason!" hissed Arthur in frustration. He had finally convinced the giant of a man to calm down, and let him go. Now he and Erikur were trying to talk him out of 'rescuing' Tino.

"I understand you care for and worry about him so much but this could be the one opportunity to save countless lives," Erikur tried.

"Though I seriously doubt anyone's going to try when there is already one person in custody and being blamed for the killings," stated Arthur, "my guess is that whoever did this is already on a ship to France or North America by now."

"So you have nothing to worry about," finished Erikur.

Berwald sighed. "Fine, I will go alone wi' this madness, but if Tino so much as gets a single scratch ah'm holding you all personally resp'nsible, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," mumbled Arthur.

"Look," hissed Erikur, dragging him over to where they could spot Tino, "he is perfectly safe, see?"

"Who's that?" asked Berwald, pointing a finger and frowning.

"Huh?" Erikur turned round to see a cloaked figure sneaking up on Tino, "shit. I don't like the look of that." He grabbed onto Berwald's coat when the older man tried to rush forward. Arthur gulped.

"Look," he whispered, voice shaking, "Tino will spot him, he is armed too so it will be a fair fight… if only he turned around."

Berwald felt his breathing [quicken](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=30/#) as the watched the shadowy being silently approach an oblivious Tino. _Come on, turn around, just turn around and you will be safe. You cannot leave me now…_

_I love you…_

…

"Do not move," whispered Aleks when Ludwig tried to rush into the street, "wait for it; trust me. Tino will be fine, he has a gun hidden away in his coat and, believe me, he never misses. Ever."

Ludwig paled but said nothing. This was not how things were supposed to go. He did not want any more deaths.

"I have faith in Tino," breathed Eduard, "but I am still nervous all the same."

"Come on," whispered Aleks, barely [audible](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=30/#), "do not let us down."

"He is not turning," gasped William, panic rising.

"What if he cannot hear them?" Eduard suddenly realised, looking around at everyone. There was no answer; no one wanted to think of what might happen.

The figure was now a mere foot away from their friend, then a shout ripped through the night air.

"TINO, BEHIND YOU!"

…

Tino wheeled round at the sound of Berwald's voice and cried in shock, leaping backwards out of the path of a knife and pulling out his gun. He aimed it at the figure's head, preparing to shoot first and ask questions later. He locked on to his target and pulled the trigger.

Just as another figure smashed into him.

There was a loud gun crack and a strangled cry. Tino found he could not move his arms and instead looked around to see a person in front of him clutching their shoulder, then, with a whirl of white hair and black cotton, he was running away and out of sight within moments.

"Don't shoot!" came a desperate voice beside him. He looked up to see Ludwig was the one restraining him. So _he_ was the reason Tino had missed.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" he yelled, "why did you stop me putting a bullet in that piece of scum's brain? He came at me with a knife!" Tino raised his fist to punch the man but stopped when he saw the expression of absolute guilt and heartbreak on his face.

"Because…" Ludwig buried his face in Tino's coat, much to the shorter man's irritation, "…that was my brother."

Of course, Tino now recognised the mess of white hair as belonging to none other than Gilbert Beilschmidt.

…

"So you had no idea he was behind these attacks?" Arthur asked for the third time.

"I had absolutely none, as I have repeatedly said," Ludwig rubbed his forehead in frustration. Everyone was gathered in the middle of the street discussing what had just happened. Berwald held Tino close, not caring how it looked, and had not let go of him since he first pulled him into a crushing hug, crying out in pure relief. Tino didn't mind too much. He was shaking in the aftermath of what happened- they both were- and it was nice to be held and comforted. He had a feeling he would need a lot more than a little comfort by the time the night was over, he anticipated hospitals and more police.

They'd forgiven each other too, apologising for shouting and trampling on each other's feelings, and that was an enormous weight off Tino's chest.

"So I assume our next move will be to locate Mr Beilschmidt and bring him to justice," Eduard told them, looking around at the group.

Ludwig whimpered, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

"Look, I understand how important your older brother is to you," Eduard sighed, "but he has committed atrocious crimes and needs to be dealt with accordingly. I need to know which side you are taking with this."

Ludwig thought for a moment before nodding; "there is no one in the world a care about more than Gilbert, but he has done terrible things and my duty has to come first," he nodded firmly, "I will stop at nothing to make sure he is behind bars."

"Thank you," Erikur gave a small smile, "now I do not suggest we go running blindly in the direction he darted off in and instead try to think of where he could have gone."

"Good idea," Arthur scratched his chin, then his head snapped up and he looked at everyone in horror, "what if he has gone after the children once he realised we are all here?"

"Th't settles things," Berwald let go of Tino and marched off in the general direction of their shop.

"Berwald, wait," cried Tino, "you cannot go wandering off by yourself. We have to come up with a plan."

Berwald returned to the group, but fidgeted impatiently.

"There is also a chance he will have gone to find Elizabeta, his old fiancé," Ludwig suggested, "should we look in her house too?"

"Maybe…" Eduard mused, "then we should split up."

"Good idea," agreed Arthur.

"Okay," said Ludwig, taking charge, "Eduard, take Tino, William and Arthur and search the shop for any sighs of… Gilbert," he trailed off sadly, then composed himself, "Berwald, Aleksander and Erikur will come with me to the Edelstein residence."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Berwald," Ludwig interrupted sternly, "I think it would be best if you come with me, understood?"

"Well no' rea-"

"That was not a question," Ludwig sighed, "now come on, before someone else dies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm guessing you intelligent people already saw through my crappy tension and guessed it was Gilbert, right? Or not, either way…
> 
> Not much to say here, except sorry Prussia fans, it's just I wanted to use a character that isn't one of the usual 'villains' in fics (Russia, France, Turkey, Denmark etc). Apologies again.


	31. Tensions running high

Gilbert cursed his stupidity as he ran. Why could he never resist temptation? Now they all knew it was him. Ludwig knew.

For a brief moment, Gilbert felt a pang of shame at the thought of Ludwig seeing this side of him. Then it went, replaced by anger and fear. His [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=31/#) would not help him; he had to get out of the country, and fast.

He ducked into a familiar alley and threw off his cloak. Pulling a hat and tailcoat out of a [cardboard box](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=31/#) hidden under some rubbish, Gilbert hurriedly put on the clothes, not an easy task with an injured shoulder, dusted himself down and shoved the cloak into the box before replacing it. Now he looked at least presentable and would be unlikely to arouse suspicion. Of course, if he ran into his brother, the other policeman or one of those bastard shopkeepers, his cover would be blown, but to anyone else he was just a rich gentleman going for an evening stroll. At midnight. Still, he doubted anyone would even be around to ask questions.

Slower now, he set off again, thinking about how he got into this mess in the first place. He would say the troubles began as soon as Elizabeta left. He had been devastated, yes, but there had still been hope. Gilbert had decided to get a respectable job, and, given his status, that was no problem, and become an important member of the community, so that when he finally travelled to Vienna, he could find Elizabeta again and have a romantic reunion and she would fall in love with him all over again. But it had taken longer than expected to get to where he wanted to be and, for a long time, he did not feel ready to see her again but he eventually travelled to the Austo-Hungarian Empire.

But by then she was married, and not even in the country anymore.

He refused to believe it. It did not seem possible that she would marry another, not after the promises they had made before she left. In his numbness, he had managed to ask around, and find out about this new husband of hers. Those he asked told him the man was a composer, a rich, famous, upper-class composer. That didn't sound so bad to him; it appeared she had a good taste in men and he, somewhat begrudgingly hoped that they would be happy together. Then he heard some more about Roderich Edelstein, the brilliant musician, born in extreme poverty, the son of a piano player in a whorehouse. It made his blood boil to think that his one and only true love had left him for a commoner disguised as an aristocrat. Well, _that_ was unacceptable.

He had travelled to London with the excuse of visiting his precious little brother, but all he wanted was a confirmation of his suspicions. He did not entirely trust the idle gossip of the Austrian gentry and wanted to see for himself if all he heard was true.

He made his first kill the night he got there.

His shoes were full of little holes, despite travelling in luxury, and he needed new ones. All the high profile shops were closed when he stepped off the [ferry](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=31/#), so he tried a little family business not too far from the river. The owner had been just about to close up for the night, but let Gilbert in anyways as he had had a pretty quiet day and wanted to sell at least one more pair of shoes that day. Gilbert guessed he had been let in due to his wealthy-looking attire, and the owner was welcoming and friendly to him, letting him wander around to find a pair he liked. They had to be quiet, as his family were apparently asleep upstairs, but the owner still felt like telling his life story when he was not talking about shoes and leather.

His story sounded similar to Roderich's, but less spectacular. The son of a factory worker, he had been apprenticed to a shoe maker and picked up the trade quickly so, when his apprenticeship was done, he could get a good job and soon had enough for his own business.

Gilbert felt an intense, overwhelming flash of anger. It was people like this man who were ruining the lives of people like Gilbert. Roderich had already taken his beloved Elizabeta away but he could not let this man, or anyone like him, cripple the lives of his fellow elites.

He had seen one of the man's tools just lying there innocently and before anyone could say or do anything, the thing was buried in his chest and the man before him was dead.

A wave of panic washed over Gilbert when his anger had left him and he'd realised what he had done. He had just killed someone and he felt scared at finding how easy it was. How easy it would be to do it again.

Gilbert had pushed that evil thought out of his head and set to work dragging the body out of the house, lest any member of the man's family awake in the night and find him. He dragged the man into a side street and left him; no one would suspect a thing. The law would just write it off as a dispute between two salesmen, or a salesman and customer. He would not be blamed.

Like the first murder, Gilbert had not planned the second one. But he had not only confirmed his beliefs that Elizabeta was no longer his, he had found out she had a son too, and then he had been kicked out of a bakery for speaking his mind. Gilbert guessed he would have probably ended the baker's life there and then, had the place not been crowded, and if there had not been two massive acquaintances of the man standing right next to him. Not that he was scared of them, it was just he was a practical fellow, and knew this was a fight he wouldn't win.

He had met a little greengrocer boy who was watching his shop whilst his master was out. The kid had talked all about his older [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=31/#), who was trying to be an actor or something, and his beautiful big sister with the same dream. It was boring as hell to him. And to this day Gilbert was not sure if he had stabbed the kid because he was like Roderich or because he wanted him to stop talking. Gilbert didn't risk dragging the body away in broad daylight so he just left the kid lying in the middle of his shop, escaping out the back so no one would see the blood on his clothes.

That evening he had drunk himself stupid, after [cleaning](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=31/#) himself up, just to try to forget what he had done, and how much he had enjoyed it.

The third kill was definitely planned. As was the fourth… fifth… soon it became a habit to him: hear someone tell their life story and, if he disliked what he heard, Gilbert would come back that night with a knife, his own one this time.

One night he had a pretty [close shave](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=31/#).

There he was standing over the body of a French tailor he'd met earlier that day. The man had told him all about growing up in the English slums, looking after his little sisters and all the adventures he'd had with some aspiring seaman called Arthur. Gilbert was pretty sure he had stopped listening after Mr Bonnefoy mentioned how he would sing 'Drunken sailor' to his friend just to annoy him, and mock his low tolerance for [alcohol](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=31/#). If Gilbert had listened to everything Francis said, then he would have known that his actress sister, Marianne, would be returning home late from work that night whilst he was still there.

He only just got out in time.

Running through the back door, Gilbert leapt over the garden wall and ran down the alley. As he ran, he heard a high pitched wail cut through the night air. So Marianne had found her brother alright.

He almost got caught again when he arrived home. He had been just about to walk into his brother's flat, a neat little place overlooking the river, when he heard Ludwig and that actress girl singing and laughing. Cursing, he snuck into an empty flat next door to [clean](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=31/#) himself and change.

Of course, he still cared for his little half-brother very much, which was why he tried to kill Antonio, the good-looking Spanish actor. He'd heard Ludwig mention how he was jealous of him and that he was worried Florenza would pick the man over him.

That was unacceptable in Gilbert's eyes.

He had already lost a girl to a commoner and he was not prepared to see his brother suffer the same fate. But the drunken fool got away. He would have had a second go when he missed but the man made such a racket Gilbert knew he could not kill him and get away safely, so he fled. He made sure to keep his face covered and had doubted Antonio would remember what he looked like, since the man was so intoxicated, but it was still a tense wait for Ludwig to return home. He had gotten away with it, but felt a prickle of irritation at how upset Ludwig was over the whole thing. Talk about ungrateful. Gilbert had only done it for him, granted, Ludwig had no idea what his brother who was responsible, but still…

It was also because of his brother that he had killed Jemima. He couldn't have people marring his brother's reputation the way she did. He did it for Ludwig, not his little actress girlfriend. In fact, Florenza Vargas had been on his list. He had not minded their relationship at first; it was like a rite of passage for upper-class young men to have lower class girlfriends until they settled down with a nice, respectable woman, but he had been worried ever since Ludwig first mentioned proposing to Florenza. No, that would not do at all; after all Gilbert had done to keep up Ludwig's image, the boy was going to throw it all away by getting betrothed to a woman no better than a whore. Gilbert tried to tell him it was just infatuation, that he didn't love her, and that Florenza was only after his money and it would do him good to get out while he could, but Ludwig never listened. He had even bought a ring.

Gilbert was still convinced she was only sticking with him because he was set to inherit a small fortune, not as big as Gilbert's but tidy enough. He did not know that Ludwig had not once mentioned this to Florenza, who saw him as a common policeman and loved him all the same.

He had also wanted to get back at the baker for throwing him out, just because he was weak and let his wife have a voice. Gilbert had wished he had been there to see William's heart break. God how he hated that man.

It was all too easy, framing Roderich. He had left the bakery early on the day of the fight because he had spied Roderich sitting alone on one of the tables, probably waiting for some mistress to turn up like the scum he was, and a plan had formed in his head. He waited for Roderich to leave and 'accidently' bumped into him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette case. It was the perfect thing to use. The fool even had his initials engraved on the inside.

Mathias had been a mistake though. He had never meant to kill the cheerful Dane. He had no quarrel with the man, and only did what he did so he could escape with no witnesses.

No, it had been Tino's life he wanted to end. He'd heard a lot about the Finnish beggar, who, ten years ago, was saved from the workhouse and certain death by a philanthropist stranger who would later become his business partner. Well, Gilbert could practically see the apostrophes hanging off the words 'business partner'. They lived together, were always seen by each other's sides, and the two men had remained unmarried, despite Tino and Berwald being twenty seven and thirty respectively. Dodgy as hell, they were and even shared custody of two young boys, who were being educated so they could move even further up the social ladder. That could not happen. No, Tino needed to be wiped off the face of the earth; Berwald too, but he wasn't the biggest priority. But before he could get another chance to end his life, Roderich had been arrested for multiple counts of murder and Gilbert needed to keep a low profile, at least until Roderich had been executed and Elizabeta was his once more. The thought of ending the toymaker's life was too temping though. Oh how his apparent, secret lover would weep! The brats too!

Gilbert doubted he'd have the chance to though. The family began to shut themselves away, hardly ever leaving the house, never going anywhere alone and locking all doors. They'd learnt their lesson. Besides, if he did get a hold of Tino, he wouldn't be able to kill him the same way as the others. There would be no drawn out pain as he ripped through the man's organs. No glee as he listened to the other's cries and sniffles as he slowly bled himself to death in whatever dark corner of London he'd been dragged to. He had considered getting hold of a gun and shooting Tino, though that didn't sound fun. Unless he tied Tino up and shot him in places that wouldn't kill him immediately, waiting for the man to beg for death. Or he could just destroy the body so no one could find it.

 _If_ he could get to Tino, which seemed impossible.

But then a wonderful opportunity arose that evening when he had walked right past Tino, who was walking alone at night, and a plan formed in his head. Rushing to fetch his cloak from its hiding place, he retraced his footsteps and soon spotted his target again, following him quietly, slowly getting nearer and nearer. He raised his knife, ready to slit his throat, so it would not look like the other murders, when a shout sounded through the air and the target turned around, pulling out a gun and aiming it straight for his head. Gilbert thought he was going to die there and then but his brother knocked into Tino and the bullet grazed his shoulder.

He should have known his brother would see through his attempts to frame Roderich and set up some form of trap. Roderich was not a murderer, and he should've known others would realise that. But how could his own brother turn on him like this? Gilbert hoped Ludwig had not actually known who the killer was, if not he would never forgive him. Still, it was not like he needed Ludwig any more; the only person he desired now was Elizabeta. He could still have her if he acted swiftly enough.

This was why he now found himself outside that enormous, beautiful building he had come to hate. It was simple really; he would convince Elizabeta and her son to flee with him to America. They could start a new life there.

He ran up the steps and banged frantically on the door with his good arm. They did not have much time, as Ludwig knew Gilbert inside out, and this would be one of the first places he would order everyone to look. If not, then he would probably order all the ships to halt their voyages to make sure he could not leave using the river. He knew the right people, and could bring the city to a standstill with a few words in the right ears.

Elizabeta herself answered his knocks and she gasped at the sight of him.

"Gilbert? What happened?" she looked at his shoulder, "are you bleeding?"

"It's nothing," he assured her, "really. I need to come inside though, please. We do not have much time."

"Err, if you insist, right this way," she led him to their large sitting room, "please, take a seat."

"No thanks," replied Gilbert, "I'd rather stand," he was getting irritated now; all this small talk was cutting into escape time, "look, I want to ask you something."

Elizabeta sighed, "what is it?"

"Will you and Franz run away with me?"

Elizabeta shook her head in disbelief, "Gilbert, I-"

"Just hear me out, please?" Gilbert raised both of his hands in mock surrender, "look, I love you, I have always loved you-"

"I know, but-"

"Still talking!"

Elizabeta glared at him, but said nothing.

"Roderich has done horrible things, and is paying the price for it. You have nothing left here. Your family's reputation is ruined, but we can start a new life together overseas. Please, we are meant for each other, and Franz can easily pass as my son. But we have to hurry, there are bad things coming, I cannot tell you what, but you have to believe me."

"Look, Gilbert, I-" Elizabeta sighed, "I love Roderich, despite what he has done, and will remain by his side throughout this. Apologies, but I will have to turn down your offer."

Gilbert snorted, "I do not believe for a second that you and the composer have any feelings for each other. He probably wed you so his parents would stop pressuring him to marry, and you did the same."

"No," Elizabeta was firm, "I was, and still am, deeply in love with him, they way I was in love with you. But that was years ago; you have to move on."

"Well then," leered Gilbert, reaching into his pocket, "we seem to have a dilemma on our hands," he pulled out his knife, "maybe this will change your mind."

Elizabeta's eyes widened, "why are you carrying that around? No… don't tell me…" she shook her head in horror, "so it was you the whole time! You killed those people!"

"Smart as always," chuckled Gilbert, "did I not always say you were almost as clever as a man? Almost."

"Pig!"

"Now, now," chided Gilbert, "out of the two of us, who is holding the weapon here?" his smile fell, "you will come with me, Elizabeta. You will be mine."

"I would rather die!" cried Elizabeta. She spat in his face, turning to run.

"Not so fast," hissed Gilbert, grabbing a handful of her long hair and yanking her towards him, "well, what if I were to use this on you precious son, huh? Would you listen to me then?"

Elizabeta said nothing, tears starting to fall down her face.

"Well?!"

"You know I would do anything for Franz," she whispered, "do not hurt him, I beg of you. We will come with you just please let him live."

"Well, then that settles things," Gilbert pulled her closer, breathing in the smell of her hair, "now wake up the little girl-boy and pack your bags."

"Mutti?" came a small voice from behind them, they both turned around to find Franz standing in the doorway in his nightdress carrying Anna, "what's going on?"

Franz took in the scene before him. His mother was being held by the man who had said nasty things to him. He saw the knife and whimpered.

"Well?" Gilbert hissed into Elizabeta's ear.

"Franz dearie, get your things packed," she said, voice shaking, "we have to go on holiday for a while."


	32. Protect the children

Franz couldn't believe his ears.

"But Mutti," he whined, "I have to meet Lars in a few days; why do we have to leave?"

"Because I will end you if you stay here," hissed Gilbert, "who the fuck is Lars anyway?" he asked Elizabeta, who refused to answer. The truth would only anger him further. Franz, of course, was oblivious to this.

"My best friend!" he cried, throwing his arms in the air, "he lives in a toy shop with his family who are really funny."

_Him? The son of the hated people who put him in this situation?_

"What the hell is wrong with you, Eliza?" he gasped, "just letting your son play with whoever he wants despite them being of an inferior class?"

Elizabeta sighed; "he has no friends his own class and besides, Lars is a very nice boy. They have a lot in common."

"Unacceptable bullshit!" Gilbert shook his head in disbelief, "if you have no friends of your own status then just be alone. Well, it is a vey good thing I stepped in in-time."

"No!" whined Franz, stamping his feet.

"Enough!" Gilbert sighed, "well, as your new father I will soon whip you into shape, metaphorically speaking. Though maybe a good beating wouldn't go amiss."

"You are not my father!" cried Franz, "my father writes music and has brown hair and glasses and likes purple and plays the pia-"

"Shut up! Your father is gone, forever. And if you do not comply your mother here will be gone too."

Franz said nothing, he only sniffed, tears starting to fall down his face. If he cried everything would be all right again. His parents always made things better when he cried. He missed his father. Why were these things happening? Lars had promised him that everything would be resolved. Why couldn't people keep their promises?

"Good boy," growled Gilbert, "now what do you say?"

Franz said nothing.

"Answer me!"

"Yes… Vater," Franz hated how the words sounded on his tongue.

"Good, now run along and pack your things," Gilbert waved his hand in a shooing motion.

Franz turned around and walked up the stairs.

"…Never be my Vater…" he mumbled to himself, cradling Anna for comfort. At least he could count on her, "will the bad man hurt Mutti?" he asked her. She didn't reply, not that he expected her to.

…

Gilbert let go of Elizabeta, "well, I think you should pack your clothes too, hurry along now. Be quick."

Elizabeta scowled and walked into the hall. When she was sure she was out of sight, she slipped into the drawing room and tiptoed over to the telephone, a large, black device resting on a [side table](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=32/#). Picking up the receiver, she hurriedly punched in the number of one of her neighbours. Hopefully they would get to the police and save them in time.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of silver cut the cord and the phone went dead. She wheeled around only to be knocked on the floor by a fist colliding with her nose.

"How dare you! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!" screamed Gilbert, "get upstairs now! And do not try that shit again!"

Elizabeta nodded, scrambling to her feet and fleeing the room. She wanted to escape, and was sure she could. If he was anything like he was twelve years ago, then she could beat him easily. But it as not twelve years ago, and Elizabeta had spent all that time learning to become more graceful and ladylike whilst Gilbert was clearly much stronger than he was before. Besides, he would kill Franz, and Elizabeta knew she could not get them both out alive if she tried to run. No, she had no choice. She would go through with this, if only to save Franz.

…

Franz carefully took his paintings off his wall and placed them into his suitcase, next to his sketchbook, pencils and paints; he could always buy more clothes wherever they were going. America was said to be a fashionable place anyway. Lastly, he took down the two pieces of artwork from Lars: the one of Tower Bridge he bought when they first met and the tonal of Franz himself. For a moment, Franz wondered if Lars ever finished the picture of his uncles before Mathias died, then he shook his head and placed the drawings on top of the others. It didn't matter. Lars had planned to give it to them as a Christmas present, so Mathias wouldn't have seen it anyway. Tenderly, he picked Anna up, wrapping her in a blanket like a real baby.

Just then, Elizabeta entered his room carrying a [travel bag](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=32/#).

"Mutti," he gasped, "what happened to your face?"

Elizabeta half-heartedly attempted to wipe some of the dried blood off her face, but gave up, lowering her hand, "it's nothing," she told him, "now come along; we cannot keep Gilbert waiting, can we?"

Franz nodded and took her hand, letting her lead him downstairs.

As soon as he stepped into the hall there was a flash of silver and he screamed.

…

"Where could they be?" cried Tino, rushing out of the deserted bedroom looking for his children. All three of their bedrooms were empty of life and Tino did not like the way the covers on the two boys' beds had been hurriedly pulled off. _What if they were too late?_

"Look," Arthur tried to reason, "Berwald will have hidden them somewhere if he was going to leave them alone. So where will he hide them?"

"Not sure," Tino sighed, "why didn't I ask him?"

"Well, it is somewhat hard to get a word in edgeways when Ludwig is talking," said Eduard, walking up the stairs and joining the three of them in the upstairs hall, "they are definitely not in the shop or workroom. William is checking the kitchen now."

"I cannot find them in any of the bedrooms," said Tino, "should we go downstairs and look there then?"

"Sure," agreed Arthur.

Downstairs, they ran into William, who had just finished searching the sitting room, shaking his head.

"Not there," he told them.

"Well where could they be?" Tino frowned, clutching his chest through his coat, "what if Gilbert got hold of them?"

"Now, now," chided Arthur, "no need to upset yourself like that. We do not have all the facts yet so let's not jump to such a conclusion. Has anyone checked the cupboard?"

"The little ones in the kitchen?" asked William.

"Err, those too, but I meant the big one over there," corrected Arthur, pointing at the closed door.

"Of course," Tino mentally slapped himself and went to open the cupboard, but it was locked.

"Of course," Tino repeated, giving a small smile, "Berwald must have locked them in."

"Sounds a little dangerous," commented Eduard, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I doubt he was thinking straight," replied Tino, taking out his own set of keys.

Inside the cupboard it was dark and there was nothing except for a few boxes and other items. It seemed to be deserted.

"Oh," said Tino, disappointed, "I really thought they would be here…"

"We are here, Papa!" cried Lars, throwing open one of the cardboard boxes and jumping out, "we heard voices and hid in one of the boxes in case the bad people had come!"

He ran over and gave Tino a tight hug, which was returned. Peter followed, not looking too happy.

"Dun' like small spaces," he mumbled to himself, "I'm so glad you are safe," he added, louder, "but where is Papa Berwald?"

Lars whimpered, burying his face in Tino's coat. "Papa…" he mumbled.

"No, no," Tino soothed, "he is fine. He is just helping the police find the killer, as I am," he sighed, "well, it seems you both are safe. Sorry children, I have to leave you again."

"But, Papa…"

"Come now," chided Arthur, "be strong, both of ye, and we will make you proud."

"Fine, Arthur," mumbled Peter, "but you all have to promise not to die."

"We promise," Arthur smiled at his little brother, "we will all make it home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and in case you're wondering why Elizabeta didn't try to call the police, they didn't have an actual telephone number until the early 20th century.


	33. Breathe easy now

"Is this the place?" Erikur asked, turning to Ludwig, who nodded.

"Yes I remember it well; now we have to be as quiet as possible when entering the place. No loud noises."

They all nodded and Berwald pushed open the gate, holding it as they all sneaked in.

"See, I told you he was a policeman," came a hushed voice, they all stopped in their tracks, listening out.

"Yes but I don't think it would be a totally good idea to make ourselves known," came a second voice, "what if they are bad guys too?"

"I doubt it and- shhh they're looking our way," the first voice replied.

The group of four slowly approached the piece of shrubbery the voices were coming from.

"On the count of three," hissed Aleks, "we jump 'em. One… two…"

"Don't attack us!" a man jumped hurriedly out of the bushes, holding his arms above his head in surrender.

Everyone yelped and jumped back. A second man climbed out of the shrubs, dusting himself down and stumbling on a root.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Ludwig.

"Oh, right," started the second man, a brunet who looked vaguely familiar to Berwald, though he couldn't place the fella, "my name is Toris; I work at the big house as a tutor and this is Feliks, the coachman," he indicated to the man next to him, with had equally long blond hair and sharp green eyes, who looked somewhat uneasy around them all.

"What happened?" asked Aleks; "is there trouble at the big place?"

Toris nodded, "huge trouble. The lady of the house and the young master are being held hostage by a crazed ex-fiancé who plans to kidnap them and take them to America or somewhere because he apparently loves her, even though he hit her. Feliks and I only just escaped out the scullery window when the shouting began and heard everything."

"Yes and we snuck round here to jump him as he left and save the mistress and young master," added Feliks, "well, it was Toris' idea, I thought it was way scary and just wanted to run, but that would not be a nice thing to do and I could not leave this sap to go against a killer on his own." He rolled his eyes and Toris shook his head despairingly.

"Is there anyone else left inside, apart from those three?" asked Ludwig, glancing at the house nervously.

"No, all the other servants quit not long after the master was arrested," Feliks informed them, "only Toris and I stayed because we are loyal to the lady and young master… and we're piss poor too."

"Well, we h've to get them," said Berwald matter-of-factly.

"Of course," replied Ludwig, who then turned back to Toris and Feliks, "want to help us save some people?"

"I would be a terrible person if I did not," said Toris.

"This will be absolutely wicked!" cried Feliks, punching the air.

"Shhh," hissed Ludwig, "now come on everyone, and quietly."

…

Franz sobbed noisily to himself, gazing sadly at the two plaits lying on the floor; only moments ago they had been attached to his head. Already the beautiful, artistic hair he had spent so long growing and caring for was starting to look dead before his eyes. Gilbert stood looming over him, picking bits of hair off his knife with a satisfied, manic grin.

"You evil bastard," hissed Elizabeta through gritted teeth. She'd thought he was going to kill Franz, that her efforts had been in vain. She stood by the boy's side, determined to protect him, though she knew there was little she could do against the man. Her heart was beating so fast she felt she would pass out any minute. For an awful moment, she'd believed her son's throat had been cut.

"Oh how can I be evil?" asked Gilbert in mock hurt, "I have never been arrested in my life, well, apart from that drunk-driving case in the United Kingdom of Sweden and Norway around ten years ago… might've crashed a carriage… but they let me off so it cannot really count."

He turned to Franz and admired his work; "much better now," Gilbert smiled, "at least we can see you are a boy, which is what you will be from now on. No more girly hair, no more silly art work and no. More. DOLLS!"

He snatched Anna out of Franz's arms and, ignoring the boy's protests, held her above his head, about to smash her on the floor when the [front doors](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=33/#) flew open.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" screamed Ludwig. He and Berwald, Aleks, Toris, Feliks and Erikur formed a semi-circle around the other three, weapons pointed at Gilbert. Toris and Feliks were both holding meat knives they'd had the sense to take with them when escaping.

Gilbert didn't appear frightened or intimidated by them, in fact, his smile widened.

"Ah, there you are, my dear brother," his smile darkened, "it appears you have chosen to abandon me in favour of that weak group of commoners."

"You abandoned me when you chose to commit such horrendous crimes!" retorted Ludwig, pointing a gun at his [brother's](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=33/#) head.

"Horrendous, yes," agreed Gilbert, "but completely necessary."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" scoffed Aleks.

"Oh I never kid about things like this," Gilbert shot back, "now just step aside- all of you- and let me pass, or, so help me, none of you will live to see sunrise." He pointed his knife at all six of them as he spoke; "you think you can try to subdue me without an Edelstein getting hurt?"

"You killed Mathias," said Aleks simply, staring at him icily and using every inch of willpower to stop himself from tearing the man apart, "and Jemima."

"And tried to kill Tino," added Berwald.

"And you tried to abduct the lady and young master," included Toris, raising his knife nervously as he spoke.

"We are not letting you get away with this," said Erikur.

"So give up," concluded Feliks, smirking.

"You don't have a choice but to obey me," sneered Gilbert, "not unless you want to see me kill some more. Now, ge-"

Franz dived forward and clung onto his leg tightly.

"Get him Mutti!" he cried.

"Get hi-?"

There was a metallic bang and Gilbert crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Elizabeta stood behind him, shaking and clutching a frying pan in her hands. Franz threw an arm up to catch Anna before she hit the ground, then backed hurriedly away from the out-cold killer, huddling behind Elizabeta.

"I think I got him," she whispered.

"Eliza?" asked Ludwig stepping forward and hugging her, "it's fine now, you're safe. Gilbert cannot hurt you any more, I promise."

"I thought he was going to kill Franz," she whispered, pulling the boy close to her.

"Mutti…" he mumbled.

"Well, that was easier than expected," commented Erikur.

"Sorry for all you've been through," soothed Elizabeta, taking off Ludwig's hat and stroking his hair like an older sister would.

"No need for you to be sorry," Ludwig sighed, looking at his unconscious brother, who appeared troubled, even in his sleep, "I just wish it was anyone but him."

"You did the right thing," Aleks assured him.

"Yeah, look on the bright side," added Erikur, "surely people are going to take the police seriously now they've caught a serious murderer."

"Excuse me," huffed Elizabeta, "'twas Franz and I who caught him, not you."

"Yes but it was I who figured out who it was in the first place," retorted Ludwig, folding his arms in mock sulking.

"I think we all played a part," Aleks put in, "we should all feel pretty proud of ourselves."

'I guess…" Ludwig did not look convinced.

"Look, Ludwig," said Elizabeta, "you may have saved many lives tonight, feel proud of yourself; you are a hero."

Ludwig nodded and there was silence for a few minutes.

"Should we tie him up?" asked Aleks.

"Nah, I think he'll be out cold a good while yet," replied Erikur, nudging Gilbert with his foot.

"Yeah and what would we tie him with?" Elizabeta asked no one in particular.

It was then that Tino, Arthur, Eduard and William turned up, sneaking in though the open front doors.

"Hey, you caught him," said Eduard in an excited whisper.

Ludwig could only nod.

"Come on, this is a time for celebration," said Eduard happily, "we just solved our first serious case. Well done everyone."

Tino gave a tired smile, "thank you Ed, but I think we are all a bit run down at the moment. After all, this has been a bit of an ordeal."

"A bit of an ordeal?" questioned Erikur, "I have never been so stressed or tense in my life."

"Yes I think we could all do with a glass of champagne and then bed," said Elizabeta, "you are all free to stay here the night, once he's locked up where he can't hurt anyone," she added, glancing nervously at Gilbert.

"Well that sounds like a splendid idea," exclaimed Arthur, clapping his hands together.

"Would it be alright to bring over Peter and Lars too?" asked Tino, "I do not really want to leave them alone and I am sure they would be good company for Franz. He probably finds us adults a dull bunch."

"Why of course," cried Elizabeta. Franz gave a small cheer, clapping his hands.

"Right," said Ludwig, taking charge, "so how about we all have one drink and then Tino and Berwald can fetch their children whilst Arthur and I get a police carriage to arrest Gilbert and take him where he belongs."

"If Arthur's not comatose with alcohol by then," added Aleks.

"Hey! It's only one drink," argued Arthur, folding his arms, "I think I can manage, thank you."

"That's what you always say," Aleks chuckled, patting Arthur on the shoulder, causing the other to burst out laughing.

Elizabeta brought a bottle out of the drinks cabinet and poured an equal measure for everyone. Tino hung back, anxious to get going.

Nobody noticed Gilbert starting to stir.


	34. The physical and psychological harm

Gilbert blinked a couple of times, taking in his surroundings. He winced at the dull pain in his head and remembered what happened. Well, he remembered being tackled by a ten year old and knocked out, but nothing else. It would appear they outsmarted him; Gilbert mentally sighed in defeat.

Looking up, he saw everyone, backs turned, already in celebration, his dear [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=34/#) included, and Gilbert felt that murderous rage boil up inside him. Ludwig didn't even look unhappy. Then, he spied another figure slightly apart from the group and a malicious idea began to form in his head.

…

"How will I explain this to our parents?" wondered Ludwig, shaking his head hopelessly, "it will break their hearts."

"Yes that is definitely going to be hard," agreed Elizabeta, sighing, turning the frying pan in her arms absent-mindedly.

"Where did you get that anyway?" asked Feliks, "if you do not mind me asking."

"Not at all," Elizabeta gave a small smile, "I hid it in my [travel bag](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=34/#) and was waiting for an opportunity to use it on Gilbert so we could escape."

"Clever," said Toris in awe.

"Can we please get going now?" whined Tino, tapping his foot impatiently.

"One m'ment," said Berwald, taking a sip of champagne.

"Why don't you have some, Ti," suggested Arthur, "I thought you were quite fond of a drink or two."

"Yes but I really do not like leaving Peter and Lars alone any longer than necessary," argued Tino.

Berwald nodded in understanding and finished his drink.

"Much better, now can we plea-" Tino choked on his words as an arm wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air.

"Alright," shouted Gilbert, "nobody move!" He had his good arm wrapped around Tino's neck, in the other he held his knife; no one had thought to take it off him.

"Shit," hissed Aleks.

"I mean it," cried Gilbert, moving towards the door. Both Arthur and Eduard tried to attack but Gilbert managed to manoeuvre in time to kick them both in the stomachs. Hard.

"What did I just fucking say?" Gilbert glared at the two men crumpled on the floor, whimpering and clutching their bellies.

Berwald snarled and leapt forward, only to be held back by a frantic Aleks when Gilbert held his knife to Tino's throat.

"Go on," Gilbert gave an evil smile, "let's see which of us is quicker. The prize is this man's life. Go on. Play. I dare you."

Berwald made no attempt to move, though all he wanted to do was save Tino from the violent death he would experience at Gilbert's hands. Tino himself was desperately trying to pull Gilbert's arm off him and escape, but to no avail. He was slowly suffocating, mouth opening and closing like a fish's, eyes pleading with his friends to do something.

"Jus' give him back," he begged.

"Uh-uh," Gilbert shook his head, "this is the only means of getting out of here. Now, I am going to leave. Anyone follows me and he's dead. Got it?" no reply, "good, now we will be on our way." He backed away through the open door, constantly on guard, taking Tino with him.

Once outside, Gilbert's grip relaxed a little and Tino felt air fill his lungs; the beautiful, polluted, disgusting air that he had grown to love. Now that his head was clearer, Tino saw an opportunity.

He raised his leg and kicked it into Gilbert's shin as hard as he could. He felt Gilbert's hold on him loosen and he slammed his shoulder into his captor's chest, knocking his backwards. Not stopping to think, Tino ran as fast as he could to the gate, hat flying off his head and coat and scarf billowing. He had to get out of there; there was no way Tino could go back inside because Gilbert would follow him and someone he cared about could get hurt, so he ran towards the street, hoping to lead the murderer away, whilst staying out of reach at all times, of course. Maybe he could lose him, or lead him into a trap. Or even find another peeler to help him.

He never even made it as far as the gate before Gilbert caught up.

Tino felt a hand grab the back of his coat and pull him back. He managed to wiggle free of the garment and started running again but the same hand grabbed his waistcoat, pulling him downwards so that he was slammed into the gravelly path. Tino felt a pressure on his chest and looked up to see Gilbert sneering at him, holding him in place with his foot. There was a flash of silver and Tino cried in agony as the knife cut through his chest. His head hit the ground and he waited for death, resigning himself to become yet another murder victim. But he would not die so Tino eventually built up the courage to open his eyes and raised his head, finding a long, but superficial gash across his chest, from shoulder to above the heart.

So it was just a warning.

"I promise the next one won't be so shallow if you dare escape again," hissed Gilbert, roughly tugging the scarf from Tino's neck and using it to tie the man's wrists together, "now do as I say and do not make a sound," he warned, "or I will actually kill you."

Tino nodded and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Gilbert pushed Tino in front of him, keeping one hand grasping the back of his waistcoat, the other holding the knife to Tino's throat, leading him out of the gate.

They travelled for an hour or so, sneaking through alleys and back streets, meeting no one, Tino losing more and more blood and becoming fainter when he smelt the familiar stench of the Thames. Sure enough, the massive river soon came into sight and Gilbert led him past the abandoned toll booths of Albert Bridge, crossing the river. From here Tino could also see Battersea Bridge, closed for construction, and wondered if Gilbert was going to throw him in the water to get rid of him. Made sense, and he seriously doubted- being a witness and all- that he was going to survive the night.

They came to a rest in the middle and halted, Gilbert forcing Tino into a crouching position in the shadows of the large suspension cables. He looked across the water, catching his breath and checking to make sure they weren't being followed. Tino just sat huddled against the side of the bridge, crying silent tears and watching the drying blood that was seeping out of his chest with watery, blurred eyes. He was slowly accepting that he would die soon, and without seeing his children again. Tino didn't want to think of their reactions when everyone returned to their little shop, to the cupboard where the two boys were hiding, to tell them that Papa was never coming home. It broke his heart to imagine it.

Gilbert saw that they hadn't been followed, then looked at the half-dead man sat next to him, deciding to have a little fun.

"You know they will not come to rescue you," he stated airily.

Tino didn't reply.

"They do not care enough to rescue you."

Still no answer.

"And if they do show up," continued Gilbert, "it will only be to catch me. None of them would give a shit if you were killed, even your… err… 'business partner' does not care."

"Berwald cares," mumbled Tino; that was the one thing in life he had always been certain on.

"Oh but he does not," argued Gilbert, grinning wider at finally getting a response, "he does not care enough for you to live and he certainly does not care for you… in that way, freak," he spat, "so no happy ending for you."

"Shut up," whispered Tino, "he will show up and save me, they all will."

"No," said Gilbert mater-of-factly, "they only want to catch me. You are nothing to them," he kicked Tino, hard, "got that? now repeat after me: _I am nothing_."

"I am nothing."

" _My friends do not care for me_."

"My friends do not care for me."

" _And I will know they do not care for me if they try to catch Gilbert_."

Tino pursed his lips and said nothing.

"Say it, scumbag," hissed Gilbert, yanking Tino's hair and pulling him closer, "because it is true."

Tino sighed; "and I will know they do not care for me if they try to catch Gilbert."

"Good boy," said Gilbert patronisingly, "and don't you forget it."

Deep down, Tino knew Gilbert was right. Everyone was trying to solve a murder, not save him. Yes, the others will come, but only because they were trying to catch Gilbert, regardless of what would happen to his hostage. Tino hoped that they would not show up, that they cared enough to listen to Gilbert, but he knew his hopes were futile.

"Time to go," chirped Gilbert, "cannot miss my boat now." He dragged Tino to his feet by his hair and was about to lead him towards the end of the bridge when they heard a shout.

"Stop right there! Put your weapon on the ground now!"

Gilbert cursed, winding an arm around Tino's neck and turning around to face a small crowd of people glaring at him with an assortment of weapons. Tino recognised them as everyone from the mansion, minus Toris. They were standing in front of the old toll booths in a line, looks of determination on their faces.

 _Oh_ , he thought, _so they don't care about me after all_.

…

" _Well, we h've no choice," argued Berwald the moment Gilbert had left with Tino, "we have ta go after them." He stood in the hallway of the mansion where, only moments ago, they were in celebration. Now there was nothing but numb disbelief and horror. Everyone stared back, silent and ashen-faced._

" _Hang on a moment," said Ludwig, raising a hand, "we have to think this through."_

" _What is there to th'nk about," scoffed Berwald, "Tino is in danger!"_

" _Yes but he cannot go charging off to rescue him," reasoned Aleks, "one wrong move and Tino is history, I'm afraid."_

" _Well if we do nothing then Gilbert will kill Tino anyway," argued Arthur, "in order to silence him, so we should at least try to save him. You know, to give the chap a fighting chance."_

" _The pirate's right," agreed Erikur, earning a glare from Arthur, "Tino would never hesitate to save any of us, and we cannot lose him."_

" _Maybe if we let Gilbert go," suggested Elizabeta, "he will give Tino back unharmed."_

" _But then we will never get him behind bars," exclaimed Ludwig._

" _There will always be other chances," argued Elizabeta, "but will we have another chance to save Tino? Gilbert is a wanted man now and there will be nowhere he can go that is safe. You will still catch him but this way we can save a life."_

" _Fine," Ludwig sighed, "but we have to go about this very carefully."_

" _Of course," replied Berwald._

" _Toris," Elizabeta turned to the brown-haired man, "I would like you to stay here and keep Franz safe, maybe it would be even better to go find Berwald's boys and look after them too. Just in case Gilbert comes back for them whilst we are trying to find him."_

" _Of course, my lady," Toris frowned, "but why do I have to stay?"_

" _Because I trust you with Franz the most, and if something happens to all of us then at least Raivis will still have one of his brothers."_

" _I see," Toris turned to Eduard, "please return home safely."_

" _I will try my best," Eduard gave a small smile, "so let's go save Tino."_

" _One moment," said William, pulling a hammer and chisel out of his coat pocket, "I found these in your workshop and remembered that you have no weapon, Berwald. So I thought I should bring them, so you would be armed."_

" _Th'nk you," replied Berwald, taking the tools. He felt more powerful now, angrier. Now, all he wanted to do was use them to end the life of the man who dared abduct Tino._

_God help Gilbert is he so much as hurt a single hair on Tino's body._

…

"What did I tell you all?" shouted Gilbert, holding his knife up against Tino's windpipe, metal digging into his skin, "now you have all killed him."

"Wait!" cried Berwald, stepping forward. Gilbert pointed the knife at him in warning, but made no other movements.

"Look, we do no' care about catching you any more," continued Berwald, "jus' give Tino back safely." Berwald tried not to look at the large cut in Tino's chest, and the red stains covering his shirt, and focused solely on getting him back without any more harm done.

"Hmm, why would I give up my only means of ensuring no harm comes to myself?" asked Gilbert, "because I know the second I let go you will all be on me like wild dogs."

"We will not," cried Eduard, joining Berwald, "we will not follow or attack you, so long as Tino is returned to us safely."

"Now why do I not believe you?" said Gilbert, raising an eyebrow.

"No lies," Berwald assured him, "we just want Tino back."

Tino could not believe his ears. They were really doing all this for him? They were giving up any hope of catching the murderer just to save him? Gilbert had lied. _Oh_. Of course Gilbert had lied. And Tino had believed him like a fool.

"How did you even find us?" demanded Gilbert.

"You left a trail of blood from the gate," Ludwig told him, "it wasn't exactly hard."

"Silly me," Gilbert gave a sweet smile, "but I cannot comply. Simply because I do not want to, and I am not stupid enough to. Now, if you will excuse us…"

"Not a chance," muttered Tino, elbowing Gilbert in the stomach. He turned around and kicked him for good measure, knocking him to the ground. He staggered, woozy, then started running at full speed towards his friends, and safety, but, once again, never made it far. Gilbert stuck a foot out on front of him and Tino tripped, hitting the concrete hard and sustaining several grazes on his face and arms, unable to use his hands to break his fall, as they were still tied behind his back. His jaw smacked against the bridge, and he cried out. He heard someone call his name.

"Ow," he moaned, as a hand grabbed his shirt collar and hauled him up.

"What did I fucking say?" Gilbert hissed in his ear. Tino felt a fist collide with his cheek and a boot hit his shin, stomach, everywhere. He felt the slash in his chest open up again from the knocks and he was sure he had never felt more pain in his entire life.

_So this was how he was going to die._

…

Berwald could believe what was happening before him. He lunged forward, ready to tear Gilbert apart but found he couldn't move. He was trying desperately, but Aleks had wrapped his arms tightly around him, holding him back.

"Get off!" he growled.

"Afraid I cannot do that," Aleks shot back; "he will kill Tino if we show any aggression."

"He's killing Tino now!" cried Berwald.

"No, he's only hurting him."

"Only?"

Aleks sighed, "Gilbert will hardly destroy the one thing keeping us from ripping into him."

"Then why is he dragging him to the edge of the bridge?" asked Feliks, pointing to the middle, where Tino was being yanked towards the wall, towards the water below.

"Oh shit," cursed Aleks, letting go of Berwald, "come on, we have to get to them."

Berwald did not need telling twice. He tore down the road towards the grim duo, praying he made it to them in time.

But he was too late.

Just as he reached the centre, Gilbert pushed Tino over the wall and he tumbled downwards, crying for help.

There was a split second's hesitation before Berwald threw off his coat and jumped off the edge, diving after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was originally going to be two chapters but they were really short and I had time to write longer and now I get to leave it at a cliff hanger because I know how you guys justlovecliff-hangers.
> 
> …please don't kill me.


	35. In the mud and stone

Tino felt heavy, cold and unable to move. He couldn't even open his eyes an inch to see where he was. Was he dead and already in the next world? He remembered those last terrifying seconds before he lost consciousness, the feeling of plummeting, knowing he was going to die and the bridge falling further out of his grasp, yet he still reached to grab it. He vaguely remembered crying for help, and the image of Berwald's distraught face- falling further and further away from him- floated in his mind. He remembered smashing into the water, the agony, and nothing. But why did he fall? Tino struggled to recall the events leading up to him plummeting towards the murky waters, but his mind felt hazy, unable to think.

Then he remembered. The choking, the stabbing, the beating. No wonder he was dead…

Wait, if he was thinking then surely he has survived? That was something. But were the others worried about him? Sure, he was freezing and soaked, but Tino did not feel like he was underwater anymore, so had someone dragged him out? Or had he just washed up somewhere? And what was happening back on the bridge? Was Berwald in danger now? What about Aleks or Erikur or any of the others? What if Tino himself was still in grave danger? What if Gilbert was standing above him, his thin lips pulled into an evil grin, waiting for his victim to wake up, to get to work with that knife of his, to draw out the execution and make his death more excruciating?

He _had_ to know.

With great difficulty, Tino opened one of his eyes a fraction and stared up, trying to focus. All he could see was dull, dim, grey brick above him. Was he in a sewer? Tino hoped not. But where else could he be? It certainly smelt like a sewer here, wherever 'here' was. He felt a warm weight across his stomach, soft and not too heavy, just enough for him to know it was there. Now, Tino felt all the more confused.

Using all of his strength, Tino sat up.

…

Berwald's heart leapt with joy when he saw Tino stirring, as he was fearful his friend was already too far gone to return to the world of the living. But here he was, still surviving, if only just. And it would be ridiculous to convince himself that they were out of the wood just yet. To be completely honest, Berwald was surprised he'd not been killed when he first hit the water, not that Tino wasn't capable of looking after himself. But he was, still is, half-dead and severely injured. Berwald himself had trouble staying conscious when he went under; it felt like someone had smacked him in the face with a chair. Lord knows how Tino pulled through.

If Tino surviving the impact was a stroke of luck, then Berwald finding him in the water was a sheer miracle. Whilst he was searching frantically underwater, his fingers had brushed against his friend's shirt, wrapping around his waist, and Berwald managed to pull him to the surface and onto land, sheltering under a bridge downriver, which was where they were now. Berwald lay shivering next to the sleeping Tino in the mud, arm wrapped around the other, as if he were afraid the other would fade away, not able to move even if he wanted to. He was exhausted from fighting the strong currents whilst making sure Tino didn't slip from his arms and be lost forever, and right now he was not prepared to leave his friend to search for the others. Help would come. Someone must have seen them. An ambulance could very well be on its way right now.

"Wha…?" Tino looked around blearily, dragging Berwald back to the present. He looked terrified, eyes fearful and tired.

"Yer awake?" he asked dumbly. Tino frowned, following the sound of his voice and locking eyes with Berwald. For a moment, relief seemed to wash over him, and he pulled his lips into the faintest of smiles, then it was gone.

"Ber? Where am I?" he asked, scared.

"Under a br'dge on the shore," he clarified and Tino relaxed a little.

"What happened? Where are the others?"

"Gilbert threw ya off the bridge, so I got ya out. Sorry yer still wet, tried t'keep ya warm, but it _is_ Nov'mber…" he looked away, embarrassed; "the others are probably alright, most likely worried 'bout us."

Tino listened to all of this, and fell silent for a few minutes before asking: "how bad is it?" He was referring to his injuries, and Berwald winced, not sure how to tell him.

"Bad," he admitted, "bein' in the Thames didn't help either. I fear it'll get infected."

Tino nodded slowly, taking in his surroundings. So they were lying in the mud on the banks of the Thames, he was soaked and covered in things he did not want to dwell on, and had a strange feeling he had been here before.

"Of course," he murmured, running his eyes over the familiar row of houses on the opposite bank, "this was where we met."

"Funny," commented Berwald, giving a small smile.

"Seems fitting, would you not agree?" Tino breathed deeply, not caring about how it worsened the pain in his chest where the knife had cut through flesh, "that we should meet and part the same way? Lying in mud and shit on the banks of the Thames under a bridge with me dying of a wound that will surely be infected whilst you are just… flawless and selfless. Ten cruel years and I can still call you those things. Hats off to you."

"What'ya mean, 'part'?" demanded Berwald, "you're not gonna die."

"Oh but I am," Tino looked at Berwald with a serious, sad, and downright terrified expression; "I should have died ten years ago in this very spot but through the kindness and generosity of a stranger I was able to spend a decade longer here, actually living life to the fullest. But I was living on borrowed time and you know it." He stared at his friend, trying to maintain a firm expression, but his lips wobbled and eyes began to tear up.

"Not true…"

"Thank you, for giving me these years," Tino smiled at him.

"Not g'ing to die," Berwald argued fiercely. His mumble became more noticeable as he struggled against his exhaustion and the urge to start crying too. His eyes burned with the beginnings of tears, his jaw stinging.

"There is no way I can survive this," Tino's eyes closed for a second, "hey, Berwald."

"Y'h?"

"Wanna hear something funny?"

"G' on…"

"Well," began Tino, his urge to keep talking rising to the surface once more. The more he talked, the less he thought about death. "When I first came to London with my mother, I didn't know any English. Not a word. I was fluent in Finnish and could get by in Swedish, French, Czech, and Estonian from all the places I had been to as a boy, but no English, since I only really talked to my mother for the first few weeks. Except for 'outta the way, prick', which people would yell at me if they bumped into me in the street. Not knowing any better, I just thought it was a way of greeting people here, like 'how do you do' or something."

"Yer joking?" scoffed Berwald, cracking a small smile.

"I shit you not," swore Tino, "and my mother told me to go get a job, so I saw a manager and a snappy suit outside his factory smoking a cigar and went right up to him, hoping to find employment there. Without a hint of shame, I strode up to the man and cried, bold as brass, 'outta the way, prick'. …I was certain the man was going to punch me where I stood. But Eduard, who worked there and was present at the time, stepped in and managed to sort things out. He's bilingual, see; he could speak both Estonian and English, and so he heard my side of the story and explained that I was just tryin' ta be friendly. Got the job, thanks to him."

Berwald laughed; "you're serious?"

"Course!"

"So why'd ya tell me?" he asked, resting his head in his hand, elbow propped up.

"T'was an interesting story," Tino shrugged, "never told anyone, and I thought I should before I die…"

Berwald's smile fell; "yer not gonna die," he said seriously.

"Have no choice," replied Tino persistently, "too much damage for a doctor to fix."

"But what about Lars 'nd Peter?" pressed Berwald, "you're gonna 'bandon them like this?"

Tino winced. "I am not abandoning them."

"Yer giving up," Berwald pointed out.

"I am just facing reality," Tino found he couldn't hold his friend's gaze, "I do not want to die, but I will. Might as well accept that and go out with a shred of dignity."

"But if ya stay strong then we can get you help in time," insisted Berwald, "jus' think of nice things that make you happy ta be alive, like…" he paused for a moment, "the look on yer children's faces when we come home safe, or Hanna licking yer face 'nd yappin' like she does, or washing in a warm bath. What about tha' Christm's party?"

"I don't think you will need an invitation for me…" Tino tried to smile, but failed, "I wish I could be as positive as you but…"

"Don't want you to die…"

"Bet you will," contradicted Tino, "when I tell you something…"

"And what would that be?" asked Berwald, "come on, there is nothing you can say that will make me wish you were dead."

"I'll wager that there is," muttered Tino.

"Try me…"

There was a moment before Tino spoke, as he built up the courage to talk again. This would be it. This would be the thing to make his best friend of ten years abandon him. He was terrified of the thought, but there was no other option left for them.

"I… have certain… feelings towards you," he began to explain, "feelings I should not be having… but for the past ten years I have been slowly falling more and more in love with you." He closed his eyes; "you are a wonderful person, Berwald Oxenstierna, and ever since we first met you have been like a guardian angel to me. You are selfless, kind and so talented. Awkward too, and sometimes a little on the scary side, but that's all skin deep. At first I was somewhat jealous of your personality and wanted to be like you, but over time I have realised that I now want to be with you, all the time, because I love you. I love you so much."

Berwald didn't, couldn't, reply. What could he possibly say in response to this? Had he even heard correctly what Tino said, or was his overtiredness making him delusional? Or was his biggest wish honestly coming true?

"You probably hate me now," Tino continued, wincing and shying away, "I guess you will be leaving, right? I understand. Honestly, I disgust myself so I cannot imagine what you must think of me. Have a good life; take care of Lars and Peter; and please don't attack me when you leave, that would be too much for my heart to take."

"Don't hate ya," murmured Berwald, resting his forehead against Tino's.

"Thank you."

"Love you…"

"I know."

"No," Berwald raised his head to look Tino in the eye, "I love you, Tino. I am in love with you. Yer not disgusting and I would never hurt you."

"What? Seriously?" Tino looked like he couldn't believe his ears, "you… do not hate me?"

"Quite the opposite…" Berwald trailed off, smiling to Tino with watery eyes, "which is why ya h've ta pull through for me, got it? Cannot lose you…" He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against Tino's, and felt his friend kissing back. It was simple, relatively short, but perfect. When he pulled away, Berwald noticed Tino was crying silently.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Do not do this t' me," begged Berwald.

He got no reply.

"T'no?" Berwald gazed at his friend- his love- lying next to him. Tino's eyes were closed and he was not moving. His chest was still rising and falling, but only just. Any second now and it could stop altogether.

"C'me on Tino," pleaded Berwald, shaking him by the shoulders lightly.

Still no reply…

"Please…"

The only answer he got was the slow rushing of the River.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well you all did want an update…
> 
> So, *cough*, on a scale of one to ten, how much trouble am I in with yous?


	36. The process of healing

Berwald opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times to adjust to the morning light, running a hand through his hair and sitting up. The sunlight drifted through [the window](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=36/#), highlighting the bedroom and making it appear grey in the early morning before the sun had fully risen. Specks of dust floats before his eyes. It was a new day and Berwald tried to feel hopeful. Maybe today would be the day _he_ woke up…

He looked over to where Tino lay sleeping, where he had lay sleeping for weeks now, fighting the infection that plagued his body. The immediate danger was gone now, thanks to Dr Wang.

Berwald recalled sitting on a wooden stool, head in hands, as the stern man told him exactly what the red, swollen marks around Tino's wound meant and how they could be treated. Berwald did not leave Tino's side when Dr Wang [cleaned](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=36/#) the red, slowly-healing, gash, and then explained to Berwald how to make sure it would not get worse whilst promising to visit daily to treat him with medicine. Tino, meanwhile, was unaware of all of this, due to the fever brought on by the infection which left him unconscious and in the fleeting moments when he would wake, suffering confusion and hallucinations, thrashing feebly and sweating, sometimes crying out in pain or fear. It broke Berwald's heart to see him like this, but at least he was alive, and would hopefully stay that way. The process of healing was slow and uncertain, but eventually Dr Wang declared that he would make a full recovery, though when he would regain consciousness was unknown as Tino was exhausted and weak from a lack of food and energy. The sooner he woke up, the tired doctor informed them, the sooner Tino could get good food and drink into his system to recover. There had been some attempts to feed and hydrate him, in those rare moments when he was half aware of where he was, so he was getting _some_ of the energy needed to heal, but what the man really needed was a solid meal.

Berwald could not thank Dr Wang enough for his work. The man just modestly shrugged it off, claiming that he was simply doing his job and it was important to him to do everything in his power to make sure his patients survived; he got paid more when they did that. From the look in his eyes when he spoke, Berwald guessed Dr Wang had seen many deaths in his lifetime, perhaps even lost someone close, definitely seen people he'd tried to save pass away from injury or disease, and could understand that helpless feeling of watching people suffer and not be able to save them. Watching them struggle and fail whilst being powerless to do anything but hope.

Berwald shook his head to get rid of the memories and stood up, pulling on clothes ready for another day that would involve him trying to carve toys out of wood, but instead checking up on Tino every ten minutes until he eventually gave in and spent the rest of the day keeping a silent vigil next to him.

Still, he had to try to carry on, at least until Tino woke up. Sighing, he made his way into the kitchen to find that Erikur, who was eating slouched in a wooden chair, was the only one up. The boys must already be in school, and Arthur and Aleks were lying in.

"Hey Ber," greeted Erikur, "still no change?"

Berwald shook his head and sat down.

"Hang in there, old man," soothed Erikur, "he's just taking his time, that's all."

Berwald nodded, looking at the plate of food in front of him but not eating.

"It's just…" he sighed, "he was so ill 'nd I'm scared it was too much fer him."

"I doubt there is anything 'too much' for our Tino," argued Erikur, absent-mindedly feeding pieces of mackerel to Mr Puffin.

…

Tino blinked a couple of times, taking in his surroundings through his hazy vision. How had he ended up in his and Berwald's room? The last thing he remembered was lying in the freezing mud, dying next to Berwald. He tried to recall the details; he'd been injured, and Berwald had saved him from drowning and they… kissed? Tino's eyebrows knitted together as he tried to remember. Yes, they definitely kissed. Tino even told Berwald of his feelings… and Berwald returned them? Tino hoped so. Well, he was still here, right? So it wasn't like Berwald hated him enough to leave him to die in the mud…

So he'd survived the events of… how long ago was that night? Tino shakily pulled himself up into a sitting position, and looked down to find his chest wrapped in [clean](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=36/#) bandages. So, he was healing fine, apparently. Out of the corner of his eye, Tino spied a group of glass bottles on his bedside table. He picked each one up and studied the labels. They were for treating infection. So his condition had been direr than he'd originally thought. Now he had no idea of how long he'd been out.

There was also a small piece of chocolate and a jug of water. Where they for him? It was the sort of thing Berwald would leave out for him, probably for when he woke up, so Tino felt no guilt pouring himself a glass of the clear [liquid](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=36/#) and downing it before biting off a piece of sweet chocolate. Tino loved sugary things, so this was a nice- if rare- treat.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and slipped into his boots, so his feet wouldn't get cold on the floor as he tried to figure out what had happened. he didn't like how exposed he was, clad in only the shorts of his undergarments, and quickly pulled his pyjama shirt on, which he found lying at the end of his bed.

Tino wasn't sure he was awake enough to face people yet, so began to search the room. Nothing seemed out of place; his painting books and adventure novels were all in the right place, next to Berwald's Dickens' and Twain's. There was a pile of magazine's and newspapers on the desk and Tino rifled through them, only reading the headlines: _'Serial killer arrested!' 'Local heroes join forces with police!' 'Composer set free after innocence proved!' 'Latest victim fighting for[life in](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=36/#) hospital!'_

 _So they caught him then_ , thought Tino, staring at Gilbert's sneering face on the front page of a paper, the man in chains being led away by police. A few other familiar faces popped up in the different papers, each accompanying a different tale from a survivor: Berwald, Aleks Arthur and Erikur standing in front of the shop under the printed word 'heroes', though none of them looked too pleased at being called that; Ludwig and Eduard posing proudly in their police uniforms, with a shiny medal pinned on each of their coats; William with his children, also dubbed a hero, as were Toris and Feliks; Roderich, Elizabeta and little Franz also had their own article, probably detailing Roderich being pardoned and his family's near abduction; surprisingly, Florenza and her stage group also appeared on one of the papers; but the most shocking of all was Tino's own face, not staring up at him, as his eyes were closed, but haunting enough. He was lying in a [hospital bed](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=36/#), pale, sickly, dark rings around his eyes and he was covered in sweat. The bandages covered his infected wound, thankfully, but he still looked pretty terrifying.

There seemed to be nothing else helpful in the room, so Tino decided to try his luck downstairs.

…

"I guess we should be starting to open up, right?" suggested Arthur, who had joined Berwald and Erikur in the kitchen.

"You're right," mumbled Berwald, though he really did not want to. Running the shop just didn't seem right without Tino's chatter and jokes, the man constantly popping into his workroom throughout the day to make sure he was happy, not bored and not overworking himself.

"Hey look who I found wandering the hallway!" exclaimed Aleks, entering, dragging a laughing Tino behind him.

"You're back!" cried Erikur, jumping up.

"About pissing time," joked Arthur.

Berwald stood up slowly, too shocked to speak.

"Hey Ber," Tino gave a warm smile, "miss me?"

Berwald pulled Tino into a tight hug, tears trickling down his face.

"More th'n anything," he replied.

"Ah now, don't start the waterworks," chided Tino, chuckling.

Berwald nodded, pulled away and sat down, heaping a large pile of food onto a plate and shoving it in front of Tino, who plopped down next to him. His chubbiness had all but vanished over the past weeks, fat reserves and even some muscle disappearing to fuel his ailing, starved body.

"Eat," he ordered, "yer weak from hunger."

"Darn right I am," mumbled Tino through a mouthful of bread, "I could eat a horse right now. Thank you for the chocolate, by the way. So how long was I out?"

"A good few weeks chap," Arthur filled in, "it's December now."

"Holy shit,' gasped Tino, accidentally spraying Berwald with spit and bread; "I didn't miss Christmas, right?'

"Nope," replied Erikur, "it's only the sixteenth."

"Ah, good," Tino frowned, "still a long time though."

"You did h've an infection though…" reasoned Berwald.

"I guessed as much," Tino thought for a few moments, "so you caught Gilbert then?"

"Yup," confirmed Erikur, "right after you two went over, all hell broke loose, seriously. We all made some sort of silent agreement to charge the bastard, and he saw and bolted realising he messed up big time, but he was trapped on the bridge 'cause some massive freaking Turkish bloke shows up with all his actor mates! Apparently one of the girls with them was a lady friend of Ludwig's and he'd offended her or something, so they were all goin' over to yell at him, but one look kinda explained the situation and Ludwig shouted at them who Gilbert was. So they joined in on our side. Even with their help we had a hard time getting him. The little shit weren't gonna go without a proper fight, so was just slashing that knife of his everywhere. Aleks wouldn't let me near the man, but it was still scary as hell. Al got nicked in the face," he indicated to the thin scar on Aleks' cheek, "so did William, Feliks and some of them actors." He shrugged nonchalantly, "but nothin' serious, mind you," he paused for breath. "It was only when Captain eyebrows, the two peelers, Elizabeta, William and some massive great Dutch guy all jumped him at once that we were able to subdue the man and get his knife so he couldn't hurt anyone."

"I see…" Tino sat listening, taking everything in; "he must have been pretty strong if it took so many of you to get him."

"Either that or he was desperate and completely insane," commented Aleks.

"He seemed pretty unhinged to me," agreed Tino, shuddering at the memory.

"Well, it's all behind us now," said Arthur, looking as haunted as the rest of them.

"So what happened to him?" asked Tino, "was he executed?"

"Hanged last week," Aleks confirmed, "oh, we should warn you that it's best not to bring the subject up around Ludwig. Naturally, he's still distraught and it's best not to mention it. Gilbert was pretty much his best friend. But everyone's been helping him so he's getting better… it's just slow going."

"Of course," Tino finished eating and stood up, "so should we open the shop then?"

Berwald nodded, frowning, "y' sure you can manage?"

"Yes," Tino smiled and walked out. He wanted to have a few moments alone in the shop, his shop, before the others came down. It looked pretty much like how he had last seen it, but there was a gloomy presence in the air like the room itself had mourned his absence. It appeared dustier than when he'd left it; had the others not noticed? Had they're been too upset to? The toys were still there, a few news ones too, but not many. He could tell which ones were new at a glance; they were slightly shoddier, made by a troubled hand. The morning sunlight filtered in through the large windows at the front and Tino unlocked the door, flipping the sign hanging on it from 'closed' to 'open'.

"Here, case yer thirsty," Tino turned around to find Berwald standing at the foot of the stairs holding a cup of coffee, just like he had been the day everything started…

"Thank you," replied Tino, walking over and taking the cup, drinking deeply.

"…Love you," Berwald whispered to him, averting his eyes and blushing.

"Love you too," Tino beamed at him, blushing back and stroking the taller man's coarse hair.

"Um, hello?' the pair turned to look at Ludwig walking in the front door, and Tino went over to greet him whilst Berwald disappeared into the workroom.

"How can I help you today?" he asked.

"Tino? You're better then?" he gave a small smile, "actually, I'm here to buy some playthings."

"Really?" _What did he need toys for?_

"Yes, do you have anything that's safe for newborns and little babies?" he inquired, looking at the displays.

"Hmm," Tino scratched his chin as he thought, "well the stuffed toys are probably the best choice for newborns at they don't have small parts and are very soft… why do you need baby toys?"

"For the baby."

"What baby?' asked Tino, looking around.

"Ludwig and Florenza's baby!" exclaimed Erikur, chuckling as he bounded down the stairs.

"Oh, is it December 1889 or something?" asked Tino, "because last time I was awake they didn't."

"No, silly," laughed Erikur, "Florenza and Ludwig are going to have a baby. Florenza's pregnant!"

"Florenza's pregnant?" asked Tino, eyes darting from Erikur to Ludwig, who nodded, blushing and grinning with joy.

"Oh wow when is the baby due?" asked Tino.

"Around July, if I recall correctly," Ludwig informed him.

"So, have you got a name for them?" asked Tino, leading Ludwig to the shelves containing stuffed toys. When Ludwig didn't reply, Tino looked over at him, frowning.

"No names yet, huh?"

"Well…" Ludwig was avoiding Tino's gaze, focusing his attention on his large hands instead.

"What?"

"Look… I know he was a horrible person, but…"

"You want to name your child Gilbert?" Tino raised an eyebrow, giving a small, understanding smile.

"…he was my brother," Ludwig tried to explain, "and I know he did terrible things but he never used to be like that, I swear. The guy looked after me when I was little and my parents were busy and he pretty much made me who I was today. I just want the old Gilbert to be remembered. So other people can know _that_ wasn't his only side. I'm not excusing him, far from it, but…"

"I get it," said Tino, "and has Florenza approved the name choice?"

"Yes, she understands the bond between siblings well."

"And if the baby's a girl?"

"We do not know yet," Ludwig told him, "though quite a few of Florrie's friends have been asking to name it after them."

"So how is she anyway?" asked Tino.

"Good. She and the other actors are using their reward money to get noticed, pay for posters and leaflets and other advertising, so they're becoming more popular now."

"They got reward money?"

"We all did," Erikur explained, "thank God, or we'd never have been able to afford a doctor."

"So you waste-"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" ordered Erikur, "it was a unanimous decision and you've have done the same for any of us. Besides, Aleks needed stitches for his wound too."

"I see," Tino helped Ludwig pick out a few stuffed toys for the unborn baby, mainly dogs, cats and birds, before wrapping them up in colourful paper, as they were supposed to be a Christmas surprise for Florenza.

"So are you getting married then?" he asked as he worked.

"This February," replied Ludwig, "I wrote a letter to my parents informing them of such yesterday. I am not sure if they will approve of Florenza, but I don't particularly care. Still, a bit of good news is what everyone needs right now."

"You're right about that," agreed Tino, "are we invited?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Ludwig, "would you mind lending us Peter and Lars to be ring bearers? We were going to have Florenza's little brother Salvatorio do it but he keeps going on about how he's too 'grown up' to, so he's in charge of food and walking Florrie and the aisle with her other brother, Lovino."

"Yeah, sure, I'm certain they'll love to be ring bearers."

Ludwig thanked him and left; Tino didn't see any more customers around so he went to check on Berwald, who was carving away at a tiny ship.

"Saw Ludwig just now," he said.

"I know," Berwald briefly looked up from his work to give a small smile.

"A baby and a wedding," Tino whistled, "he seems to be getting his life back on track."

"Happy for him."

"Me too," Tino agreed, "lord knows we all need a bit of good news."

"Is being alive not good enough?" asked Berwald, frowning.

"Yes but," Tino sighed, "a lot of people have died these past months and those left behind are struggling to come to terms with it, you know? I could see what happened with Gilbert's tearing Ludwig up inside; he feels so much grief and guilt right now. Aleks and William are trying to put on a brave face for their families but I think those wounds are too big to heal any time soon." He sat down on his stool, picking at a splinter sticking out of his desk. "What we all need is some hope. We all need to feel normal, happy, if only for a few hours," he thought for a moment, "I have an idea."

"Yeah?"

"Get some paper, Ber, we have invitations to write."


	37. Notes and letters

Franz sat in a little armchair in his room, gazing out of [the window](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=37/#) at his family's vast garden. He liked the view, and the brightly coloured [flowers](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=37/#) were often a fantastic source of inspiration for his artwork. Of course, there were no flowers at the moment, as it was winter, but Franz could still see the gardener pottering about from where he sat.

Not that it really mattered what was in the garden right now. It wasn't like the child needed inspiration from flowers any more.

Nearly being abducted was a common theme in his drawings now. Everything that he could remember from that night was on paper somewhere. Gilbert holding a knife to his mother's throat, his mother's bloodied face riddled with guilt and shame, plus his own shame of not being able to do anything, Gilbert slicing off his hair; it was all there in pencil and paint now. [It helped](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=37/#) him deal with the trauma, Franz realised, and it was as if he was setting himself free from the memories. He'd never show the pictures to his parents though; they would just upset them and Franz didn't want his parents to be sad anymore. It was really scary when they cried. Maybe after he'd finished drawing everything, he could collect all his pictures and burn them, hopefully burning any bad feelings he'd have left.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair for the tenth time that day; it still didn't feel right. He frowned. Franz didn't like having short hair, and it just felt wrong on him. He'd been growing those silvery locks since he was little, washing them, brushing them, looking after them until his hair was his favourite part of him. Superficial, yes, but Franz had been proud of it. He felt it expressed who was truly was: different from the norm and a foe of the rules.

His father had taken him to the barber's the day after he was released to neaten it up. It was that bit shorter, coming down to his chin, but at least it didn't look like it had been hurriedly cut with a knife anymore. Franz groaned and put on the red beret his mother bought for him years ago. He'd found the thing recently, and the kid believed it kept his head looking artistic and interesting whilst he waited for his hair to grow again.

There came a knock at his door and Franz turned his head with a bored expression.

"Enter," he called.

Toris opened the door and stuck his head in, giving a small smile.

"Your father requests your presence in the family room," he informed the boy.

"Understood, Toris, thank you," Franz stood up and lifted Anna out of her cradle before making his way downstairs.

Elizabeta was already in the family room, sitting on a comfy, floral patterned [sofa](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=37/#). Her face had healed from where she was hit, though there was still slight bruising on her delicate, pretty nose. Today her hair was pulled into a messy plait out of the way and she wore a pretty olive-coloured dress that matched her eyes. Elizabeta had abandoned her shoes, letting her feet feel the soft rug under her through her stockings.

"Oh, there you are dearie," she greeted, "it appears your father's keeping us waiting."

Franz nodded and sat down next to her.

Roderich didn't keep them waiting for long though. A few minutes later, he entered, clearing his throat and standing awkwardly in the doorway as his family turned to face him.

"It appears that I owe you both an explanation," he began, "and an apology. It is because of my foolish mistakes you both were hurt the way you were."

"Nonsense," scoffed Elizabeta, "Gilbert was _my_ crazed ex fiancé, not yours."

"Nevertheless, I failed to protect you, which is something I vowed to do when I married you," Roderich hung his head in shame, whilst Elizabeta muttered something about not needing to be protected, "you are the two most important people in my life and I almost lost you that night."

"There was nothing you could have done, father," said Franz, "even mother could do nothing to stop him."

"I know, it is just…" Roderich sighed, "I love you both so much and I never tell either of you enough. Recent events have made me realise this."

Franz stood up and gave his father a hug, which was returned.

"We love you too, Roddy," added Elizabeta, "but it really would be nice to know where you've been sneaking off to."

"Yes, I owe you an explanation," agreed Roderich, taking a group of rolled up sheets from the pocket of his jacket, "this was meant to be a Christmas present for you, but I am perfectly sure neither of you object to it being a little early."

"Not at all," replied Elizabeta.

"Ooh, is that our present?" asked Franz, pointing at the sheets, then frowning, "what is it?"

Roderich chuckled, "sit down and I'll show you." Franz obeyed and Roderich strode over to the [grand piano](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=37/#) in the corner. Sitting down on the stool, he placed the sheets in front of him and Franz could see there were musical notes on it. So he'd written them a song…

The famed, framed composer began playing; the piece started slow but soon picked up, taking on a haunting rhythm that drew everyone in, captivating them. There was something else there, love. Franz could feel his father playing his love of his wife and son, music expressing what he couldn't ever bring himself to say out loud. Was it his imagination, or were there silent tears forming in his father's eyes when he glanced over to see their reactions before returning his gaze to the music sheets?

When he'd finished, Roderich stood up and gave an awkward bow.

"I assume you get the idea," he added, looking away.

"That was beautiful dear," gasped Elizabeta, "it's just… thank you."

Roderich smiled, blushing slightly, "that was why I kept leaving, so you wouldn't hear it. I did my composition at my friend Vash's house."

"It was really pretty Vatti," mumbled Franz, scooting closer to Elizabeta to make room for Roderich on the [sofa](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=37/#). Nestled between his parents, Franz tried to remember the last time the three of them had been so close, but failed. Instead, he decided to savour this moment, and hope many more would follow.

"Sir?" asked the butler, entering the room. Although Toris and Feliks were regarded as close friends now and their loyalty admired, the other servants of the house had been welcomed back after Roderich was found innocent.

"Yes?" asked Roderich.

"A letter has arrived for you, sir," answered the butler, handing him an envelope.

"Thank you, that'll be all," Roderich took a letter-opener out of his pocket and cut open the envelope, pulling a letter out. He read it once and showed it to Elizabeta and Franz, and the latter gasped with excitement.

"Can we go please?" he pleaded.

"I don't see why not."

…

"Heracles," snapped Sadik, stabbing the table with a fork as he glared at the other man, "how many times have I told you that if you feed strays? They'll just keep coming back for more!"

"But they're hungry," argued Heracles calmly, throwing pieces of fish to the small crowd of cats gathered outside their back door. Kiku kneeled beside him, setting down a saucer of milk.

"Well I'm hungry too," whined Sadik, "how come you two never feed me?"

"You pay our wages! You have more money than us!"

"I've always shared," argued Sadik, "cheeky little shits," he turned to the man sitting in front of him, quietly getting on with his dinner, "you agree, right Muhammad?"

Muhammad looked up and nodded; "the smell of the cats makes my dog nervous and jumpy."

"See! We have our own pets to look after!"

"I understand," said Kiku, "but charity is important too."

Sadik groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, there's a letter under this tabby," commented Heracles, reaching down to pick it up, "it's addressed to us."

"Ooh, let me see," said Sadik.

The four men opened the letter together, smiling when they saw what was inside.

…

"So what do you think?" asked Eva, looking around at her three flatmates, who were lounging on a pair of two-seater brown sofas, "sounds fun, huh?"

"I'll pass," replied Jan, folding his arms.

"Oh no you don't," growled Carlos, "if I'm going then you are too. Besides, who wants to be alone on Christmas Eve?"

"Me, that's my perfect Christmas Eve."

"Grumpy prick."

"Hey quiet now," cried Antonio, reading the letter once more, "we're all going! Hey, I think I know these guys who sent it, but I can't place them. Still, I wonder if Lovino got an invite…"

…

"I wonder if Toni got an invite," murmured Lovino slouched in his arm chair as his sister read the letter out loud.

"I think it's a good idea," commented Ludwig, who was perched on the arm of the chair Florenza was lying in, a hand placed protectively over her belly. Lovino still wasn't used to the idea of him and Sal being future uncles, and it had taken every once of self control he possessed to not strangle the blue bastard when he first found out. But Ludwig made Florenza happy and, to some extent, Lovino was grateful for his presence.

"This will be the best Christmas ever!" cried Salvatorio, jumping up and down excitedly.

…

William couldn't stop the tears streaming down his face as he read. This was something him and Jemima were supposed to do together. Nevertheless, she would want him and the children to go, so he put on a brave face to tell them the news.

"So should we bake something to bring with us?" asked Oscar through the cheering coming from the younger children.

"It's only fair," agreed William.

…

"I remember Mr Edelstein getting a similar note today," commented Toris, looking over Eduard's shoulder, "lots of people must have got them. I think Feliks did too."

"Well, I'm in," said Eduard, "what about you two?"

"I want to go," said Raivis, "it sounds so much fun."

Toris nodded in agreement, "well I guess that settles things. We won't be spending Christmas alone."

…

"It's a blessing," confirmed Michelle, "I'm sure it's a gift from dear Francis."

"Maybe," agreed Marianne, "either way, it's a piece of wonderful Christmas joy."


	38. Spreading hope

"So have you got everything ready?" Tino asked for what felt like the 50th time that day.

Berwald nodded calmly, placing a plate of ham on the [kitchen table](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=38/#), which they'd dragged into the sitting room to hold a buffet.

"Now does the tree really look good in the corner or should we move it?"

"Again?" Berwald was sure he'd hauled that tree all across the sitting room by now for Tino.

"Right, sorry," Tino dipped a hand into the box on the floor next to it, pulling out another clay or glass decoration for the tree. They'd decided not to put any candles on it as the place was going to be full of children and drunken adults soon and they didn't want the house (or even street) going up in flames. The tree was fresh, rich in colour and stood proudly in the corner to the right of the [fireplace](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=38/#), where a roaring fire was lit to warm the place for the guests. The boys had made brightly coloured paper chains, which were now hanging from the ceiling and the kitchen table was full of good food. A massive turkey sat in the middle, surrounded by stuffing, potatoes, salmon, bacon, ham, sausages and different vegetables they'd saved up to buy over the weeks. Aleks, Erikur and Arthur were 'supervising' on the sofa.

"Papas!" cried Peter, running into the sitting room, Lars following, "someone's at the door!"

"The first guests!" Tino ran downstairs to open the door. "William!" he cried, stepping aside to allow the baker and his small army of children to enter.

"Merry Christmas Tino," he replied, "we thought you'd like a bit of help with dessert," he added, holding up a basket of petite cakes, "Oscar has more."

"The little ones helped me make a splendid Christmas cake," said Oscar, who was holding a large, fruity cake with white icing, "right?"

"Yes!" cried the four children.

"Wow thank you, we really appreciate it," Tino smiled warmly, "if you go upstairs you'll find everyone else. Just leave your coats in the kitchen or something."

"Thank you," William replied, leading everyone upstairs.

"'Scuse me," came a voice from outside, "is this where the Christmas Eve party is?"

Tino turned round to find Antonio standing in the door way smiling.

"Antonio?" asked Tino in disbelief, "I haven't seen you in years!"

"Tino!" Antonio stepped forward to pull the shorter man into a crushing hug, "how's it going old buddy?"

"Not too bad," gasped Tino, "nice to see you're well."

"Aren't ya gonna introduce us?" came a female voice.

"Oh, course," Antonio let go of Tino, much to the other man's relief, "this is Tino; we used to share a room. Tino, this is my friend Eva," he gestured to a little blonde woman, who stepped inside and shook Tino's hand, smiling sweetly.

"This is Eva's [brother](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=38/#) Jan," continued Antonio, pointing to a tall blond, who nodded politely.

"Nice ta meet ya," he greeted.

"Nice to meet you too."

"And this is my little brother Carlos," Antonio threw an arm around a slightly shorter man, hugging him tightly, 'isn't he sweet?"

"Huh?" Carlos shook his head, "hey we brought some homemade treats and pastries for the party," he pointed to the basket in Eva's hand.

"Wow thanks we really appreciate it," Tino led them upstairs to the sitting room, where Aleks and Erikur were unpacking William's cakes onto the table. The children were racing toys across the floor, shouting and laughing. Oscar was sprawled on the sofa staring at a glass of [wine](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=8553276&chapter=38/#), trying to look like he was some sort of expert in the field whilst Arthur was throwing pillows and cushions on the floor next to the fire for extra seating.

"So just make yourselves at home," he told the newest party before hearing another knock at the door.

"Got it," called Berwald, running out of the room.

…

"I'm really starting to have second thoughts about the whole thing," Roderich played nervously with the collar of his coat.

"Come on," Elizabeta rolled her eyes, still smiling; "it'll be fun."

"But we've never been to a working class party before," he whined, "we don't know what sort of behaviour they get up to. What if people have their ankles out and everything?"

"Oh hush," Elizabeta chided, "do not talk such nonsense. They're poor people, not animals."

"I want to see Lars and play with the other children," cried Franz, "I never get to play with other children."

"See? It's good for Franz; good for all of us, really."

"Yes, but…" Roderich sighed, "fine."

"We're here now anyway," she said, pointing to where Berwald was stepping aside to let Marianne and Michelle Bonnefoy into the shop.

"Ah, hello," he gave a small wave, "ya made it, then?"

"Yes, well, Franz really wanted to come," stated Roderich.

"Thank you for the invitation," added Elizabeta.

"Well everyone's in the sitting room right now," said Berwald, "so if you go up those stairs it's the first door on the left."

"Thank you," Elizabeta led Franz, who was jumping ecstatically, across the room. Roderich hesitated, staring at Berwald for a few seconds.

"Thank you," he whispered, and Berwald knew he wasn't talking about the invite.

After Roderich had left the room, another four guests showed up.

"Hey I don't think we've met," greeted the eldest, "I'm Sadik. Err, Erikur and Aleks sent us an invite," he waved a hand at the other three, "thought we'd show up. I mean, Heracles is the only one of us who actually celebrates Christmas but it still sounded fun, you know? Oh, Heracles is this guy," he pointed at a calm-faced Greek man with brown hair, "and the little guy's Kiku," more pointing, "and the one with short hair's my cousin Muhammad."

"Thanks for inviting us," said Kiku, giving a small smile.

"Eh, no problem," Berwald shrugged, "we heard you all were badly effected by these r'cent events and tonight's all about spreading cheer and hope."

"Well it's a good idea," said Muhammad.

"It was Tino and Mathias' idea really," admitted Berwald, leading them upstairs into the sitting room, "and Tino pretty much organised everything."

"Well he did a good job," said Heracles.

"Hey Toni!" called Sadik, "you made it then?" he strode over to his lead actor, slapping him on the back.

"Course!" laughed Antonio, "hey do you know if Florrie and Lovi are gonna show up?"

"Dunno," Sadik shrugged, "still, Florenza's gotta take things easy now."

"True."

…

"Come on!" urged Salvatorio, running ahead before turning around to wait for them.

"Yes, yes," Lovino pulled his scarf tighter around him to block out the cold.

"We have to take care around Florenza," explained Ludwig for the millionth time.

"Ludwig, please," Florenza rolled her eyes, hanging on to his arm; "I'm only a teeny bit pregnant. I know not to do black flips and stuff, but I can walk a little hasty now and then."

"I don't want to risk it," replied Ludwig, face filled with concern, "I care about you too much."

"We can see that," muttered Lovino.

"Hey, we're here now!" cried Salvatorio, running over to knock on the door excitedly.

By the time Berwald answered, the other three had reached the shop.

"Y'made it?" he asked, showing them inside.

"Course," replied Lovino.

After the four of them were shown upstairs, Berwald returned to greet Toris, Eduard, Feliks and Raivis, who'd just shown up. After they were pointed in the right direction, Berwald started to shut the front door when he heard wailing.

"Please, my mummy sent us to buy some sugar and tea but a nasty boy spilled them into the gutter!"

"It was her last farthing; we daren't go home," added another, softer voice.

Berwald searched for the origins of the voices, and found they belonged to two small boys sitting on the pavement. There were brown and white grains sprinkled on the road in front of them, along with a pair of empty paper bags.

Berwald sighed, and walked over to them. The two boys were the same pair he'd given money to weeks ago, but they didn't recognise him at first.

"Up to yer old tricks again?" he joked, though it didn't sound that way to the children.

"What? No! Someone really tipped them into the gutter!" cried the one who Berwald remembered had been covered in fake blisters, Alfred.

"He did," insisted the other boy, Mathew.

"Really?" Berwald smiled in amusement, "just like how your arms just burst into blisters?"

"Uh…"

Berwald sighed, "wanna come inside? It is Christmas, after all. And we have plenty of food to go round; ya like cake?"

"Really?" asked Alfred.

"Why not?" Berwald held the door open as the two boys ran inside, "upstairs, s'on the left."

"Cheers, mister," Alfred grabbed Mathew's hand, and ran straight into Arthur.

"Ouch, hey watch it," he grumbled, "well, who do we have here?" he asked, staring at the pair.

"Found them on the street," explained Berwald.

"What?" Arthur studied the two boys closely, "but they're so little!"

"Hey we're not little!"

"They're so skinny!" continued Arthur, "we have to take them in! Do you think they could live here?"

"But we have a home!" protested Alfred, "with a mommy and baby brother."

"Oh, well then. I just want to help you two, maybe just because it's Christmas and all, but, how about I give you a job?" Arthur scratched the back of his head.

"Don't think a ship's the safest place fer kids," reasoned Berwald, "I mean, you're an ad'lt and look what happened to you."

"No, no," Arthur chuckled, "I'm thinking of packing all of that sailing business in myself. Too risky and all. And I want to be around to see Peter reach adulthood. I want to start my own business, boat building, to be precise. When that's all set up I'll contact you," he added to Alfred and Mathew, "I'm sure your mum wouldn't mind you two getting good jobs."

"Very generous sir," said Mathew, lifting his flat cap politely, smiling; "we'll definitely consider it."

"Now can we please go eat?" whined Alfred, "the tall guy said there'd be cake! Cake, dammit! When was the last time we had that?"

"Well, I cannot keep you two from dinner then," Arthur chuckled, stepping aside. The two boys bolted up the stairs.

"Poor kids," murmured Arthur, "they look half-starved."

Berwald nodded, "didn't even st'p to consider I might be dangerous."

"That desperate, huh?"

"There anyone else left to show up?"

"Don't think so," Arthur frowned as he tried to remember.

There was a loud knock on the door and Berwald opened it.

"Here for the get-together," stated Vash matter-of-factly, then faltered, "erm, a Mr Väinämöinen invited us." Lilli gave a bright smile and a small wave.

Berwald nodded, once again stepping inside and allowing the pair to pass before following them up the stairs, occasionally mumbling directions.

When they arrived in the sitting room, the party was in full swing. It turned out that Roderich had brought a violin along with him, and was playing a lively piece whilst everyone danced like fools. Alfred and Mathew were stuffing their faces with cake, all of the other children soon joining them, except Charlotte, who'd grown up surrounded by cakes her whole life and was quite sick of them.

Roderich handed the violin to Franz so he could dance with Elizabeta, and the boy played pretty well, if blushing slightly under the gaze of an impressed Lars. Ludwig continued to fuss over Florenza.

Berwald spied Tino sitting on the sofa talking with Antonio and Lovino and decided to join them.

"Ah, there you are Berwald!" said Antonio, "I was just talking about how we used to live together," he turned to Lovino, "y'know this guy taught me English."

"S'true," confirmed Berwald.

"Sounds a bit like the blind leading the blind to me," joked Lovino.

"It does a bit," agreed Tino, laughing.

"It's good to see you made something of yourselves," said Antonio seriously.

"And you," replied Berwald, "hear ya both doin' actin' now."

"Yeah you have to come along to the theatre sometime," insisted Lovino, "we're pretty damn good."

"M'ght be nice," said Berwald.

"Hey I have to ask," began Sadik, wandering over to join them, "who did the spread? I mean, that's some quality food, and I know my food. Trust me, I'm a gourmet."

"It was a joint effort from Berwald and Aleks," Tino filled in "no one else was allowed to help."

"Well it's really good," Sadik glanced over at the table, "hey, would you mind if I take a bit home with me, there seems to be a lot there. It's just there are four of us in one house so there are a lot of mouths to feed-"

"Go ahead;" said Tino, "it'll be great to see the food not being wasted."

"Ah, thanks buddy," Sadik flashed a grin before wandering off.

"I think Sadik might have some competition," noted Lovino, pointing to where Alfred and Mathew were stuffing turkey and bread under their shirts.

"Well I overheard them mentioning their family so it's probably for them," commented Tino.

"Hey, they should come over to the soup kitchens sometime," said Lovino, "I make the soup so you know it's gonna be good. Plus, it's free, and for the poor anyways."

"Yeah his cooking's great," agreed Antonio, wrapping an arm around his workmate, "seriously; this man right here could have his own damn restaurant. And I'd eat there every day too!"

"…Have you been drinking?" asked Tino, raising an eyebrow.

"Not one drop," said Antonio sincerely, "trust me, you _know_ when I'm drunk. Besides, last time I was within five metres of the stuff I got stabbed."

"To be honest," said Tino, "you don't even need to be near alcohol for that."

"That's right, you were the other survivor," murmured Antonio, "we're a lucky pair, aren't we?"

"For once," added Tino.

"Yeah, still," Antonio coughed, "it's all in the past now, and we can forget about it. Come, Lovino, dance with me."

"Yeah, why not," Lovino shrugged and stood up. The two of them were soon replaced by William, who plopped himself onto the sofa, eating from a bowl full of stuffing and bacon.

"Great do," he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"Cheers," Tino flashed him a grin.

"Loving the atmosphere," William paused for a second, "hmm, do you suppose we could, come and visit you in the afternoon tomorrow? It's just," he sighed, "I love how the noise and cheer is distracting everyone and the whole place just feels full of happiness tonight and I think it'll do the children some good to be around lots of people tomorrow. If that's fine with you," he added, glancing at Tino and Berwald apprehensively.

"Sure," said Tino, "we'd be happy to have you."

"Bes'des," added Berwald slyly, "I think it's best for us ta spend lots of time together in the future."

"Oh?" inquired William.

"'Fter all," continued Berwald, "we m'ght soon be in-laws," he nodded at where Peter and Charlotte were holding hands under the mistletoe, which Berwald he hung from the ceiling earlier, mostly for his and Tino's benefit later.

"Well… damn," William blinked a few times, before laughing out loud for the first time in weeks.

…

"Ah come on," whined Berwald, "surely we c'n tidy up tomorrow."

"And have the boys come down this pig-sty on Christmas morning?" answered Tino, sweeping crumbs and pine needles off the floor. The party was over, everyone else was either in their own homes or asleep upstairs and it was up to the pair of them to clean the place. Even though it was now the early hours of the morning and they were pretty tired.

The party had been a massive success. Tino wasn't sure which moment was best for him: Heracles and Kiku deciding the party was going on a bit long and curling up in the corner together for a nap, holding hands, a scene which was made even cuter when Natalya thought they would make the perfect bed for her and curled up on top of them, the other children soon joining her; Roderich actually cracking a smile and laughing as he danced with Elizabeta in front of the fire; Antonio and Lovino dragging some of the other actors over to the middle of the room to do a little song and dance performance for everyone; Franz nearly knocking over the tree in a sugar-induced hype that made him want to run around the room with Lars, causing a fair bit of shouting from Roderich, which was silenced by a kiss from Elizabeta; Berwald laughing and smiling at him while they danced with their boys, Aleks and Erikur; Sadik thanking them again for the food as he and Muhammad got ready to leave, carrying a box full of meat and cake and lightly kicking their two friends awake, who were then faced with the task of standing up whilst trying to not wake up the children sleeping on them; Florenza twirling around as she danced, lifting her skirt in the air to reveal her ankles, causing Roderich to almost faint, at which time Elizabeta decided it would be best to take him home; or just seeing everyone so full of cheer and hope, the horrors and misery of the city not reaching their tiny patch of happiness.

Tino smiled at the memories, finished sweeping and began placing presents, which had been hiding in the cupboard until then, under the tree whilst Berwald tidied any uneaten food away.

When the room was looking relatively decent, they decided to call it a night. Yawning, the couple made their way to the door, but Berwald stopped in the middle of the room, turning round to face Tino.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Berwald merely pointed upwards towards the ceiling.

"Mistletoe," breathed Tino, grinning, "well, it _is_ tradition." And with that he stood on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Berwald's lips and felt a pair of arms snake around his waist.

"Merry Christmas, Berwald," he murmured.

"Merry Christmas, Tino," replied Berwald, smiling brightly, "I love you."

"I love you too."

…

_The End_


End file.
